


Reckless

by CheifHijinks



Series: Delusions AU [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: An actual multichap here we go, Another round of 'is he real or nah'?, Crisis Era, Delusions AU, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lots of dialogue cause I am weak, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), No beta reader, Oddly convenient plot devices, Okay time to hurt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Questionable pov, Supernatural!Gabriel, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy deathwish, Very liberal cannons, Very vague descriptions of war, videogame objectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:14:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheifHijinks/pseuds/CheifHijinks
Summary: Leaving SEP,  Jack enters the war, aiming to finally fight for what he believes in, but there's this nagging feeling in the back of his mind and a worrying sense of dread. Nonetheless, seeing the crisis upfront now only strengthens his motivation to finish the fight. If only Reaper thought the same way.





	1. Touchdown

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so as much as I like reading through 10k+ chpts (honestly I do), I thought it would be better to chop this up a bit more. I apologized for the sudden ocs and chunks of dialogue, but necessary. Also, I spent 20 minutes googling spices.( I don't think turmeric is as good as real medical supplies. )  
> My thoughts on the actual crisis are based off media and video games so don't expect much.

The hum of the transport clogged Jack's mind as he shifted nervously. His pulse rifle at his side, he looked over at Philips and Neilman. Both men glanced his way. Despite their stoic expressions, Jack could see the nervousness in their posture. Commander Fritz emerged from the cockpit, the same angry scowl now mixed with dread and unease on his face. With sure steps, he walked down the line towards the hatched, appraising each soldier he passed with a quick nod, or was that due to the rough transit? The commander shouted over the droning of the engines, calling out some sort of plan. 

Jack tried to pay attention. He took deep breaths, finally hearing the roar of gunfire below. They were to support the ground team in taking out the anti-air units. A simple mission, all underlined in a command to _not die_. 

The soldiers stood, arming themselves. The pulse rifle was heavy but all the training made it comfortable in Jack's hands. He swallowed thickly as the transport began to dip. It couldn't go any closer to the drop zone.

Despite the crowded space, something-someone held his hand. It wasn’t the rough leather of combat gloves but a calloused skin, cold against his. He squeezed it before letting go. He didn’t look over. _Didn’t need to look over._ Blue eyes wouldn’t meet that mask. Not here.

 _Not now._

Right now was about the plan, the gun in his hands, and the fellow soldiers who shared that same tense confidence drilled into them from training.

Soon, the hatch opened and the soldiers exited in an orderly fashion. They were SEP, a biologically created _miracle_ and last ditch effort to combat the Omnics.

This was their purpose. 

Below him were the ruins of the city, in a town he didn’t know, in a country he couldn’t pronounce. Some buildings were still burning with smoke pouring from its windows. The simulations had nothing on this. 

It wasn't like the virtual reality they tested in: the huge space of artificial ruins and cityscapes all graphically created through visor sets. They’d run through so many scenarios that included real fire, fake ammo, and stun bullets that still hurt like a bitch. At the time, it was all so lifelike, so awe-inspiring, so _safe_. The only real factors that came about were the increased skill and bonds of soldiers and their shared exhaustion at the end. 

_But this was real._ They weren’t in that simulation room the size of a hanger anymore, under the watchful eyes of commanders and scientists. There were not here as recruits but _soldiers_.

The acrid smell of smoke assaulted his senses, reminding him just how _real_ this was. The cacophony of gunfire was louder now, emphasised by the strong scent of gunsmoke and, what he came to know as, pulse munition. As Jack felt the rush of air while he fell, he looked down at the ruined city and reminded himself of why he did this, of the people back home, and the people on the reports who were in danger.

He could finally help them. 

The sure footed landing was a good start. 

The soldiers efficiently immersed themselves in their roles, as ingrained in them by relentless training. Jack met up with Neilman and Philips along with other members of their squadron. The leading officers gave simple, precise instructions, and they were off. The battle turned simple: aim, fire, and reload. Move to different cover. Repeat.

The ground shook and a loud crash echoed against the gunfire. More smoke covered the air as the burning building crashed into the street below. They were lucky that the ground teams were only separated, but now they had fewer numbers to deal with the swarming bots. Jack and his team made their way gradually, tearing through enemy after enemy. The empty chassis fell limply as the wave was soon wiped out. For now. Regrouping with who was left, they shot their way towards the the meet up point. Half of the deployment stayed to assist the wounded and secure the area. The rest followed the Alpha team on their hunt for the anti-air cannons. 

Their battalion split again as one member of Alpha team lead smaller team. Jack narrowed his focus to given orders as he worked with Philips in clearing a route towards one of the canons. Clearing the stairs, he motioned for the others to head up. Neilman watched behind as the Alpha member set the charges. Soon, the cannon exploded as they looked for the next target. Another explosion and a rapid report from the coms signalled another success and only two more remaining. Jack's small team crept their way towards the others, gunning down some loners that got separated from the fight. 

Many of them were regular androids. Their expressionless faces were piled on the ground, wires hanging out and sparking from their chassis. Jack took a moment the examine one before they moved to the next area. The red lights of its eyes flickered before shutting off. Philips' shots went straight through the head and chest, tearing at the metal and exposing its inner workings. Though burned by the shots, he could make out a small chipper logo on its chest.

A coffee shop.

Jack paused briefly before returning to the group. The ground shook beneath them and dust filled the air. Another building had fallen. The comlink crackled to life as they radioed in their positions. With the road blocked off, they'd have to find a way around.

Neilman scouted ahead, cursing as he ran back, barely evading enemy fire. The quick rounds meant Bastions. Shit. From what they were told, an Omnium was close but given the majority of androids, he didn’t think any units would make it this far. Hiding behind cover, Neilman explained their positions. Thankfully, there were were only two, one heavily damaged. However, they were already set up in sentry mode in a bitchy angle. Even damaged, that rate of fire could still easily shred through them.

“Philips, you try to flank through that building. Neilman, think you can give him some cover? I’ll distract them.” 

“That’s too risky,” Neilman pointed out. Jack shook his head. 

_'Don't do this Jack.'_

“Just trust me.” 

The two looked at him, concerned before nodding. Jack signalled to Philips as he stepped out into the oncoming fire, blasting off rounds at the sitting Bastions. The rattling fire filled the air, and he winced as some shots grazed him. Nonetheless, he continued the assault. Philips quickly flanked the units, under Neilman's additional fire, unloading both clips to ensure their destruction. Jack rubbed at the wound, shallow enough for enhancements. He’d be fine.

Securing the path, they made their way to the next cannon. Another resounding explosion followed by a crackling report meant that there was one more. Getting closer, they met up with another team, and unfortunately more units. Luck was on their side as they mowed them down efficiently and more charges were set. The last cannon went up in flames as another crackled report recalled them all to base. Overhead, they already saw the small dots in the sky drawing closer while trudging back towards camp.

•••••••••••••••

Jack pushed open the door of the building, rifle drawn. The room was a good size with much of its furniture thrown aside. An old restaurant. Tables were either entirely broken or used for cover, usually both. Bullet holes marred the surfaces and the shredded the remains of chairs nearby. Glass cracked under his boots as he scanned the interior.

 _'Wonder what they made,'_ Reaper commented as Jack walked towards the kitchen. _'Probably better than those shitty rations they give you.'_

"Anything would be better than that," he replied, pushing open the door. He quickly scanned the room, finding a downed body of an omnic. The chef, most likely, given the apron and the knife still in his hand. He kneeled and looked over the fallen bot. No signs of a skirmish. No damage at all. Was it just deactivated? Some panel on its back was hanging open though. Was its battery taken out or something? Shaking his head, he moved on. After finishing the sweep, he'd figure out what happened.

The back room’s door was off its hinges, laying on the dirty floor below. Inside the pantry were old cans, a collection of spices, and other odds and ends. It'd been raided, which meant there might be survivors in the area.

_'Hey, take that with you.'_

Jack furrowed his brow as he stood in the pantry door again, "Take what? There's nothing here."

Reaper muttered something but Jack only caught the 'something-spanish-white-boy' part. He rolled his eyes,"If you want something, why don't you just take it?"

"Well maybe I will," Jack flinched feeling that hand on his shoulder. He was pulled out of the pantry by a surly wraith who was shaking his head. "This is why you're banned from cooking. Can't even recognize good shit right in front of you."

Jack shook his head, "I have a ghost lecturing me about the finer points of food. I'm pretty sure, even if I wanted, I couldn't cook with you bothering me."

"Wraith. And what you have a is a blessing. Who the fuck puts peanut butter and onion together?"

"That’s delicious and no, you're just a pain in the ass."

A roll of the shoulders. Reaper looked through the small spice jars, examining them before holding one out,"Take this one."

Confused, Jack took the small jar, "Turmeric?"

Then he did a double take, “Wait, you can _touch_ stuff?”

Reaper leaned out of the pantry to look at him in a deadpan sort of way (which wasn’t hard with that stupid mask on.), “I’ve done this before and you’re bringing it up _now_?”

Jack furrowed his brow, trying to remember. There was that one time with a water bottle, but the memory was hazy and made him flush.

Right. _That_ time.

In the back of his mind, that was an odd sense of always knowing Reaper could interact with physical objects, but that didn’t stop his surprise at seeing it. 

"This was probably an Indian restaurant from what they have. That's usually in curry."

"And you want me to make curry?" Jack turned the jar over. 

"Not with your shitty cooking skills,“ he sneered. ” You can use that to stop swelling."

"Uh,huh," Jack placed the small jar back on the rack. Not the first time the wraith bullshitted him. _And probably not the last._ "I'm just gonna stick with modern medicine thanks."

Another roll of the shoulders. A crackle.

"Hey Morrison, this side's clear. You finished?" Kite asked.

Jack drew a flat line. Shit. He forgot about the comlink. Quickly he checked the device and was thankful that the toggle didn't get stuck. Reaper glanced at him knowingly(?). He watched the wraith continue poking around the empty pantry before clicking the button on the com,"Yeah, I'm stepping out now."

He walked back out of the restaurant, not looking back if the wraith was in tow (probably was). Kite stood outside, on guard even when she saw him.

"Buildings clear. Nothing inside but a deactivated chef," they continued down the street, taking note of the damaged buildings. “Saw signs of a raid. Might be some civis in the area.”

"Hey would you rather have deep dish or thin crust?" Castillo crackled over the com.

"Deep dish always. With lots of cheese and olives," Tullen replied first naturally.

"What the fuck? Olives are gross."

"Fuck you, they're amazing."

"Pickled maybe but not on pizza."

"Okay, you're weird."

"Says the guy who puts olives on pizza."

"That's totally normal."

"Hey, do you guys mind not flirting over the coms?" Neilman interjected with a sullen tone. He grunted.

Philips probably elbowed him since he responded next, "Where else are they gonna do it? Might as well get it out now and not when were bedding down for the night."

"Shut the fuck up," Philips grunted this time. Neilman must have retaliated. “Doesn’t mean I want to hear it.”

Jack looked at Kite who shrugged with a lopsided smile. He pressed the button on his com, thankful that their squadron had a secure channel. God help them if any of their CO's heard them messing around.

He cleared his throat, "Olives aren’t _that_ bad.”

A chorus of ‘not you too’ and ‘what the fuck Morrision’ resounded in response. Kite shook her head but the slight grin betrayed her. Sometimes it was nice to forget that they were in a war torn city on the verge of destruction and infested with emotionless, killer robots. He only smirked and continued, “Anyway, report in. How's everything looking?"

"Clear on the west side. Just a bunch of broken buildings," Tullen lost his mirth, his tone more somber. "Pretty sure this used to be part of a pavilion."

"We're in the pizzeria down the block. Signs of a recent skirmish but we haven't run into anything yet," Castillo reported.

The 'yet' made Jack uncomfortable.

"Main Street is clear," Neilman chimed in."Another building collapse along the west bend. A lot of bots around here but nothing active. Morrison, Kite, how are you guys?"

"Fine so far. Empty on the east side," Kite looked at the broken window of a shop. 

"Found some signs of a raid. Might be some survivors in the area so keep a look out," Jack added.

Kite exited one of the partially standing buildings with a shake of her head, "How much further for the drone crash?"

"Not sure. The coordinates were kinda vague," Neilman grunted.

"What the fuck?" Philips yelled. "Do you-? _Holy shit._ Morrison, Kite, do you see this gorge?"

Neilman grumbled something before his surprised followed. Castillo and Tullen mumbled their curiosity. Jack met Kite's confused stare with one of his own, "What are you talking about?"

"There's supposed to be an intersection down the road, right? There east turn, there's a huge ass ditch. The road's collapsed and everything."

Kite and Jack made their way down the broken asphalt. There was no marker for a road collapse around here, only a couple buildings that blocked the crumpled roadways, but no ditch. Still, it was an older part of town and a lot of the infrastructure hadn't aged well, as marked by the old style wire hung traffic lights. They continued down the once sidewalk towards the intersection. The damaged street light hung pitifully from its poles, swinging back and forth with broken glass.

"Holy shit," Kite stood at the edge of the road, or where it split into a large canyon. The ripped edges lead to a steep drop with huge chunks of asphalt and building littering the once underground. Jack took a careful step forward, kicking some pebbles into the cave in. 

It was really deep, but he could see the bottom. Or what he thought was the bottom.

Some sewer water was still present, evidently cloudy with dirt and debris, but the smell buried under ash and gunpowder. Peering into the depth, he could make out half buried bodies of Omnics and some questionable chunks of something among the muck and rubble.

"Hey guys," Philips yelled. He and Neilman were standing on the other side of the canyon, a _very far_ other side. 

Kite waved. Jack pressed the button on his com,"Think the drone is in there?"

"With our luck, probably," Neilman replied with a deadpan.

"Hey what's that?" Kite pointed into the cave in. Jack stared at the tiny blinking blue light. He blinked incredulously. Of fucking course.

"Yep, it's in the gorge," Jack reported in. "But it's pretty deep in."

"Bet you I can make it," Kite joked. "Did gymnastics as a kid."

"Yeah, but bet you didn't have tons of concrete for a landing mat."

"True, but I can try."

"We got a situation over here," Tullen broke over the channel, his voice dire.

"What's wrong?" Neilman tone dripped fear.

"Some of those chassis weren't just chassis. We got live ones here."

Gunfire echoed in the distance as well as over the coms.

"Me and Castillo are holed up in one of the shops. There's too many for just us to handle."

"Neilman, Philips, you guys back up Castillo and Tullen. Me and Kite will get the drone," Jack ordered. "To hell and back."

"To hell and back," the two man agreed before they headed off quickly as the sounds of gunfire started to grow rapidly.

"Sure we shouldn't help too?" Kite watched the two retreating figures.

"With this in the way, we couldn't make it in time," Jack stared at small drone's blinking light. The drop was too steep even with enhancements. They needed some equipment or something. He looked back at the street, passing over caved in shops and emptied buildings. Tall towers loomed over them, lopsided on one side but somehow still standing. For now.

"What’s up with the whole ‘hell and back’ schick?" Kite walked besides him, a smirk on her face but concern still lingering in her voice.

Jack just shrugged, "Philips thought it’d be cool if it was our last words or something. So he kinda just made it a thing, I guess."

She raised a brow before nodding in confusion but acceptance, and gazing into the pit once more. Jack examined the shops again, before joining her. The light post continued to swing, held in place by some wires.

 _'Electricity is probably off around here,'_ the wraith didn't appear but his voice clearer than the comlink . _'Could probably use those thick cables.'_

Jack furrowed his brow for a moment and looked up. He nodded, "Hey Kite. I need a boost."

"Uh sure?" she sauntered over and Jack explained Reaper's- _his_ idea. With a nod, she laced her hands and Jack climbed the pole, his combat knife in hand. Thankfully the power _was_ turned off in this section as he grabbed the wire and sawed it off. Enhancements made sure the thick metal was cut in just a few moments. He was first taken aback by the weight of the traffic light before letting go. The device crashed into the ground with a resounding crack. Kite let Jack down and they made their way to the other pole, cutting the the other end of the wire.

"Hope this is enough," Jack remarked, pausing to listen to the distant gunfire. He pressed his com, "You guys okay?"

"Just finishing up," Neilman responded immediately. "Everyone's fine, but some of the downed Omnics are reactivating. If it's not broken completely, it might come back."

"Like fucking zombies man. Smash their heads in," Tullen joked, earning a laugh, a snort, and a very irritated 'shut the fuck up'. “But careful. Not sure what’s making them active again. They just kept coming.”

Kite chuckled as she tired the wire on the remaining pole. Pulling it taut, she threw the end into the pit. It was a little off but with a jump, you could reach it.

"I'll head down," Kite remarked as she grabbed onto the wire. 

"Got your back," he assured, rifle at the ready.

With a nod, Kite jumped down into the gorge. She slipped a bit on the rubble before meeting the end of the wire. Jumping down, she took out her rifle and scanned the area. Jack watched over her, keeping an ear out on the coms. The gunfire had settled in the distance. 

"Hostiles down," Neilman reported in. "But we lost some."

"What do you mean?" Jack frowned. How do you lose killer Omnics?

"Castillo and Philips cornered some in a building, but they just _disappeared_. We think they might be headed in your direction."

"Okay. Got it."

"We'll meet you back at the main district. To hell and back, Morrison."

"Yeah,” he smiled, “To hell and back.”

The com clicked off. Scanning the gorge again, broken Omnic parts littered the area, peeking out from the debris. They all seemed deactivated. Tullen's words made him smirk but watching Kite walking towards the fervent blinking light filled him with a sense of dread.

"You got it?" He yelled.

"Yeah," she picked up the drone. "Hey, there's something else here. Looks like a beacon or something."

Behind the drone was something sticking out of the ground. It wasn't a stick of rebar, at least according to Kite and what he could see from this distance. A bright flashing light was at its end. Maybe that was the tracker? Then why were the cordinance so vague?

As she walked back, Jack examined one of the larger sewer pipes. Big enough for even him to fit, but only if he stooped down a bit. Maybe a viable exit. But there was something...Off. Neilman’s warning echoed.

"Kite, might wanna hurry up," Jack watched the pipe.

"Well catch then."

Jack caught it easily and placed it on the ground. His eyes didn't leave the pipe. _Something_ was beeping. It wasn't his com. Then, something creaked.

"Shit," Jack yelled for Kite to hurry up. She shook her head before yelling-

It was a brief flash of red as the light came on. The crackling roar of the blast hit Kite in the leg. She cursed loudly, kneeling. Jack fired into the pipe, the rocket's recoil almost making him fall. The smell of burning metal filled the air, but the creaking continued.

"We found your Omnics. They're in the sewer system. We need back up now!" Jack yelled into the com. 

_'Keep the high ground.'_

Grabbing the wire, he jumped into the gorge, rushing to Kite who was shooting down the pipeline. He quickly helped her up. The wound was bad. She had to lean on him for support.

_'¡Pinche idiota!'_

Rushed voices crackled from the comlink but were soon drowned out by the rapid fire of the pulse rifles. Red lights, emerged from the pipeline as they crawled, and returned fire. The damaged androids stepped out to be shredded, but units behind them were able to stand, making their way closer.

“Fucking hell, “ Kite cursed again next to him, reloading. They shuffled towards the wire as the mob grew closer, or was it? They didn't seem concerned with them, despite the shooting. Jack tried to follow their path, but they were just so scattered. _That wasn’t normal._ There had to be _something._

Then it rang out. A sharp hissing squeal of a sound piercing his ears.

"What the hell," he grunted, as his hearing returned.

"The ground Morrison!"

The parts of Omnics he'd been surveying began to shift and _move_.

Dust fell as broken Omnics rose _from the ground_. Tullen's analogy came back to him again, this time weighing more dread and fear as he watched endoskeletons and huge parts of bots rise for the ruins. They continued to fire, retreating towards the wire. Kite kicked off an omnic torso, blasting it immediately, but the mob continued to grow closer. More methodical now. Precise and unstopping. They reached the wire. Kite's weight left him as she fired. Jack continued to fire, yelling to Neilman about their position. 

Too far.

He looked at Kite. She leaned against the wall, leg bent in an odd direction with blood along the inside of her thigh. He hissed as a shot hit his shoulder.

"Kite, can you make it up?" He yelled over the shrill crash of metal.

_‘Don’t do this Jack.’_

"What?" she didn’t stop firing. 

"I'll cover you. Go meet up with Neilman."

"I'm not leaving you. I'm fine."

_‘Jack.’_

"Kite, you're injured,” the rocket lights lit up once more as he fired into the fray. “ _Get out._ “ 

“It’s just a flesh wound,” she tried the joke, but the panicked look in her eyes betrayed her.

More and more Omnics filled the gorge. Even battered and broken, they still rose up, the armed ones continuing to fire. The gorge seemed so much smaller now as they closed in. All of them were damaged, wires sparking. Many were missing limbs but continued on in a steady, deliberate wave towards them. Most just body blocked all their shots. Jack reloaded and asked for another check with Neilman.

Still too far. 

“Kite, _I swear to god_ , if you don’t get out, I will _throw_ you,” he yelled. He scanned the oncoming crowd, aiming for the armed Ominics with every intention to destroy but more priority to disarm. 

“Like to see you try Morrison,” she yelled back, but he turned away from the bots to help boost her up. “Goddamit Morrision. Fucking shit fine.” 

_‘Goddamit Jack.’_

Jack lifted her roughly but gentle along her injured leg. Kite continued cursing him as she grabbed onto the wire and pulled herself up. Once she was climbing, Jack swung around, rifle at the ready. A lot of the bots were heavily damaged and crumpled to the ground as he bashed them in with his pulse rifle. Turning to join Kite, he faltered.

Something grabbed his leg, pulling him to the ground. 

The torso of a bot screeched at him in a hazy wail like out of some horror movie. He quickly bashed it off his lap but the brief moment gave the Omnics a chance to move up. He was surrounded, back against the steep climb. He tried to stand but something grabbed his angle, the vice grip easily bruising and intent to break bone. Jack thrashed in response, clubbing the hand that grabbed him. It released him, but the mob towered over him. 

Too close for rockets. The cartridge clicked empty. He reloaded his last one.

Kite yelled from atop the gorge as bots closest to him crumpled in sparking heaps. 

Jack smiled as he watch the spread of bullets rip through metal. Scrambling to his feet, he heard Kite grumble over the gunfire as he bashed in more bots. Soon footsteps were running towards them along with additional fire. The air crackled with gunfire and by the end, the gorge was littered with the broken bodies of Omnics, each one with their bodies ripped apart to shreds and heads caved in (Tullen’s handiwork). A final sweep ensured that none were getting up again or at least, anytime soon. With unsteady feet, Jack plucked the weird stick from the ground; heavy metal, resembling a cane, and climbed up the wire. Neilman grabbed his hand to help him up the rest of the steep climb. 

“Fuck you Morrision and your fucking ‘good guy’ shit,” Kite cuffed him in the shoulder. He hissed, rubbing at the bullet wound. She just glared at him. 

He only smirked, “Hey we’re back from hell.”

Kite tried to glare at him but her frown dissolved into a small smile, “The worst. Morrision. The fucking worst.”

Drone in hand, Castillo complained about Kite pulling at her improvised bandages. Kite defended herself, already irritated at having to lean on the other for support. Tullen was making a bet with Philips about how many bots he killed in one go while Neilman shook his head at their idiocy. Jack walked along the side, watching. He limped slightly, his ankle throbbing from the artificial grip. His shoulder stung, but right now he felt fine. 

He was fine. 

He- _they_ were fine.

_They were alive. ___

The team walked at a steady pace, considering the ‘not’ wounded. Despite their relaxed state, they were all on guard. Jack could see it in the way Tullen gripped the handle of his rifle tightly, how Philips would look away for a moment, and how Kite would scan the cityscape every so often. 

Jack couldn’t help but watch behind them. He searched for those blinking red lights to crawl out of the ditch at any moment. He gripped his pulse rifle, taking comfort in its weight. He didn’t acknowledge the cold man standing next to him, wisps of dark mist leaving his body, and shoulders tense in irritation. He didn’t ask. He knew that he’d hear all about it later. 

•••••••••••••••

“The hell is wrong with you?” Reaper growled once they reached base camp. 

The group split up with Neilman delivering the drone and the cane to the officers. After a debriefing, Philips left to grab a bite and the rest made their way to the medical tent. Jack was quickly seen and sent out. They had more work tomorrow, depending on what info they managed to scavenge from the drone. At least, these were all assumptions. He didn’t expect to get a direct answer. That just wasn’t his paygrade.

“Jack, answer me.” 

Jack sat on his cot, rubbing his bandages. They weren’t severe by SEP standards and should be healed by morning. Still, it felt stiff already. His ankle bruise pretty bad, but it’d be fine. 

“She was injured.” 

“Doesn’t mean you should give yourself up like that.”

“You expect me to let her die?” 

The wraith stared at him in silence: _yes._

Jack furrowed his brows. What the hell was this conversation? 

“I came here to save people. If I can’t even save one of my own, how am I gonna save anyone else? I thought _you_ would understand.“

You’re part of my subconscious after all.

Reaper seethed. Mist was leaking from the holes of his mask. His outline seemed to blur as dark clouds spilled along the floor. Taloned hands were clenched in tight fists at his sides. 

Oh. 

This was _new_. 

Jack paused, watching the black clouds leaking from the figure. It was like his body forgot how to keep form before righting itself for a brief moment. Nonetheless, it didn't take away from the imposing figure standing over him. The white mask stared down, angry.

"You can't help if you're dead, Jack."

"If my life helps save others, I'm willing to give it every time."

The clouds grew, filling the floor of the tent like a fog machine. The mist had a definite pressure now, like being underwater. He flinched at the touch, pulling his legs onto the cot. He dipped a toe as you would in water before accepting the sensation. 

"Goddamit Jack," he snapped up at his name. "You just fucking run in there, without thinking, trying to-..."

Reaper turned away from him with a huff,"You just don't _change_ do you?"

"What?"

His tone had changed and the mist had stopped. Like a bright flame finally being burnt out, the rage from earlier had melted into a smolder of disappointment and irritation.

"Always wanting to play the hero. You're not _invincible_ -"

"I never believed-"

"And you're not a _martyr_ ," he turned back to him, voice heightened once more. "So stop acting like one. Always the _fucking same_."

"Hey, Morrison," Tullen called, something wrapped with a napkin in his hand. 

He walked leisurely inside, paying no mind to the mist flooding the tent or the ghost he just stepped right through. The wraith blurred and faded as Tullen walked through him to Jack's cot. His outline reformed as the tear knit itself back together. Reaper glared at him, bristled from the interruption.

 _'We'll finish this later,_ ' he growled before fading into smoke. The cloud cover on the floor was missing. Black wisps sighed as they were extinguished which had Jack still staring at the spot. _He could do that?_ When could he do that? He blinked for a moment, trying to focus more on the words.

Later?

"You still with me?" Tullen raised a brow.

"Oh yeah," Jack quickly apologized.

Shit.

He was talking to Reaper out in the open again. In SEP, they were usually in the privacy of his room and suspiciously empty hallways and rooms. Not that they talked much in the first place. Still, he'd grown so used to having a second opinion around. Even if that opinion just liked to call him a jack(ha)ass. 

But they hadn’t fought before. 

Tullen almost caught him talking to himself. It wasn't like SEP, where he could try to blame it on the serum or say it was some fucked up mental exercise (which worked a surprising number of times). He needed to be more careful, or just not talk back at all.

"Just ah- What's that?," he pointed at the napkin stuffed under his arm.

Tullen gave him a smug grin. He peeled back the napkin, revealing a quarter of a loaf of bread, "Managed to find something kinda fresh while at the pizzeria. Was still in the oven."

Jack turned over the loaf. There wasn't any mold on it but didn’t look good either. Not exactly 'fresh' but the crust still crackled when he held. The white inside made his mouth water, but that was a given since literally anything other than the rations would taste better.

"Hey, I ate one earlier and so did Castillo," Tullen assured him with a smug grin. "Side, we got that juice in our bodies. Could probably eat a month old pizza or something and be fine."

Jack smirked and took an experimental bite. Stale. He wasn't surprised, but the different texture made him crave more.

"Oh yeah," Tullen stuffed a hand into his pocket. He tossed a small pile of condiment packets onto the cot. Jack took them with thanks and sifted through the packets. They were all taken from that pizzaria: tomato paste, cheese, and some kind of hot sauce.

Tullen sat down on the other cot, which creaked in protest.

"How's Kite?" Jack asked as he ripped open the tomatoes paste. The thick sauce dripped distastefully onto the bread. Didn't matter since it was covered with the cheese.

"Kite told me to tell you that she's not finished with you yet and once med's done with her, she's coming for your ass,"

"Sounds like she's doing better already."

"Hey," Tullen's smirk fell. "She told us what you did."

"Yeah?" he paused.

"That was..really good of you Jack."

Jack put the bread down for a moment.

"She's probably gonna tell you in your own special way but, Kite's really grateful."

Jack smiled a bit and continued eating. Tullen started to recount the 'heroic' battle he and Castillo fought in the pizzeria. Neilman soon returned, joining into the story and criticizing Tullen's 'special' methods.

"Gonna blow yourself up like that," Neilman huffed in regards to Tullen's very liberal use of explosives.

"I got like three of them in one shot though."

"You're worse than Morrison and his fucking rockets."

"Hey," Jack challenged,"I'm _way_ better than Tullen's firecrackers."

Tullen gasped in mock hurt before retorting," _Really?_ They knock you on your ass half the time Morrison."

Jack flushed.

"Don't think I didn't see. Holy shit Rob, you missed it. He fuckin fell after taking a shot and got up to look if anyone saw."

Neilman smirked, "Yeah, sounds like him."

"Don't fucking pretend Morrison. I saw you," Tullen joked. They took jabs at eachother until lights out. Castillo had volunteered to help out at the med tent after another team returned. Their mission didn't end well. A silent pause hushed over the group for a few moments. Kite returned with Philips in tow, complaining about Philips 'escorting a nice lady' back to her cot. They settled down along with everyone else but Jack lay awake, insomnia his ever present companion.

In the distance, he could still hear the gunshots. When he closed his eyes, he was back in the gorge, fighting off the half dead Omnics as they clawed their way towards him. He sighed and rubbed at his shoulder, glancing down at his leg. Nothing.

He was fine. 

_'Said we'd finish this later.'_

Jack turned over and came face to face-mask-with Reaper. (Thank God for enhanced senses and all, but being able to see in this low of lighting always had its drawbacks.) He shuffled back in the cot, hand reaching for the side arm under his pillow.

_'Really, Jack?'_

He waited a couple beats, listening to the soft snores and hoping no one else was awake.

"Don't think now's a good time to talk," he whispered. 

_'Good. Maybe that will make you fucking listen to me.'_

Jack rolled his eyes and turned over. He didn't need this now. He needed to sleep. He needed to be prepared for the job tomorrow. He needed this wraith to not _fuckinggetinthecotholyshitheisthisiscrampedashell._

"The fuck?" he snarled in a surprisingly low tone. He lay on his side, forced to face that mask. The cot was touching the ground now, meaning that the wraith had taken on some kind of physical form(?). Their combined weights(?) laid the cot flat. He could feel the cold ground through its flimsy fabric, which was way warmer than the body in front of him. The wraith also lay on his side, a clear valley between them, which was achieved by Jack moving all the way to the edge and partially hanging off the side. The cot threatened to tumble back if not for the bristling counterweight(?).

_'Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you, Jack.'_

The mist was back again. So that means he's upset? Okay. Noted. Sure.

He turned at an awkward angle to look behind him. Nothing seemed out of place. The soft breaths and Neilman's snoring meant no one was awake. He turned back to the wraith.

"Mind not doing this?" he gestured to the whole, cot thing.

_'Yes.'_

Jack grimaced in disdain,"Fine. What?"

_'Stop doing the hero bullshit.'_

Oh. This again. He rolled his eyes.

_'I'm serious, Jack. You can't save everyone. Especially if you're dead.'_

He tried to roll over. Finding not enough room, he sighed, "I don't think I'm some hero, I'm just doing the right thing. Besides, it made sense to just let her up first."

_'At the cost of yourself? You're lucky she backed you up. You would've been overrun.'_

"Died buried under heaps of burning metal. I'm not an idiot. I knew the risk."

A sigh, _'Evidently you didn't. Fine. Think of it this way. You had the vantage point. Why'd you jump down?'_

"She needed help."

_'Could've done more from uptop. Better positioning.'_

Jack stared at the mask, feeling the repetition of the conversation start to grate on his nerves, "She was hurt. Bad enough that she couldn't jump for the wire. I couldn't just leave her down there."

The wraith stared(?): _Yes. You could have._

Why was his subconscious such an asshole? Was it just some selfish part of him he never knew? Every moral fiber of his being supported his decision, so why was the wraith so difficult? It couldn’t be just a different perspective. 

_It didn't sound like him at all._

Did he just not understand himself as much as he thought? Then again, the same 'self' created this manifestation of a grim reaper who was currently almost pushing him off his own cot.

 _Right._

'Knowing himself' went out the window back during that fever.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Jack closed his eyes, irritated at he thoughts now swimming through his head.

 _'I'm not done talking, Jack.'_ a growl.

"Well I am. I'm going to sleep. I have an important job in the morning."

Reaper huffed and Jack had a bad feeling about it- which came to fruition when the cot flipped onto his side. With a hissed curse, he sat on the cold ground, cot leaning on its side as it clattered back into place. Reaper stood, arms crossed, mist pouring from his figure. So he was throwing a little fit? Great. Just what he needed in a figment of his imagination: one prone to hissy tantrums.

_'Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.'_

"What the fuck Morrison?" came a sleepy groan.

"Sorry," Jack whispered back. Philips turned over with a grunt. Turning back to the wraith, he glared at the figure. Fine. He could just ignore him anyways. Shouldn't be too hard.

_'And I had a good feeling about you. But that's just my own fault for thinking things would change.'_

After a quick glance at Philips, he whispered "What are you talking about?"

 _'We had a short run, Jackie. I don't know why I expected more but I did.'_

Again the candle was snuffed out. The rage had melted into disappointment and resignation.

_'You're just a man, Jack. Sometimes we both forget that. A stubborn asshole who doesn't change. '_

With the next sigh, a puff of black mist left the mask. He shifted closer and kneeled in front of him. Jack merely watched, throwing back a defiant glare.

_'Fine. Do what you want. You always did, and you always do, but this isn't over. Not yet. I won't let it end just because you want to play hero again.'_

"I dont-"

_'Goodnight Jack.'_

The mist enveloped his figure and faded. The wraith was gone and the room felt warmer. Jack blinked before resettling himself on the cot, which creaked in protest. 

Again? 

Again.

_Again._


	2. Looming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this took longer than I wanted and turned out longer than I wanted (welp.) I got kinda distracted by Valentine's but I'm happy to finally have this one finished. Enjoy ;)

The room was irritatingly warm. Jack shifted, kicking the blanket off only to find it missing. With a frown, he sat up, surprised not to hear the creaking of the cot under him. Blue eyes opened slowly before going wide.

The room was burning. 

But, _he_ wasn't.

The landscape was familiar: a pitch darkness as far as the eye could see. A shudder run down his spine. Here he was again, only now it was engulfed by fire. The embers burned brightly, lacking any source or smell. Seemed like it'd been burning a while too. Hesitantly, he neared the closest flame. 

It lacked any warmth. 

How a place without walls or anything could be on fire was anyone's guess but the hellscape didn't really threaten him.

Only another vision, a dream. 

Irritated, he looked around, expecting that white mask to appear in the dark with some foreboding vague nonsense he liked to spout, but there was nothing. The low glow was his only light, and its lack of warmth made him uneasy. 

Damn that stupid wraith for pulling this shit again. He didn’t need some moral questioning, come-to-Jesus talk. The specter already bothered him enough in the waking world. He didn’t need him in his dreams too. 

Someone yelled in the distance, startling him. The voice was panicked, but Jack couldn't make out what they were saying; yet every part of him decided it was ' _help_ '. He tried to yell back but not a sound came out. A brief moment of confusion dawned on him before he stood among the flames and tried to walk towards the voice. It didn't grow any louder and he didn't feel any closer but he just had to get there. He just had to.

Please. Help. 

He continued to run until he felt exhausted (in a dream?). The voice kept screaming. 

Help.

Faceless civilians trapped in buildings and other injured soldiers came to mind.

 _Please help._

"What are you doing here?" that familiar growl stopped him in his tracks.

Turning around, black smoke rose from the embers. The dark cloud accumulated before him and that white mask appeared, illuminated by the soft glow. There was something more sinister about him in that light, more predatory. But Jack was not afraid.

"How did you get here?" the ghost rephrased. Surprised?

"Where am I?" Jack replied, at first taken aback at being able to form the words. 

The voice in the distance was silent. Jack looked back, as if he could see the victim but his eyes were only met with the pitch blackness of the world.

“I have to go help them,” he turned to leave but Reaper shouted. He glared back at the wraith. 

"Get out Jack. You shouldn't be here," Reaper stepped closer.

"What? I’ve been here before. “

“That was different. Now’s not a good time.”

“What do you mean-?" 

The voice in the distance had started again, a pained, desperate sound that broke his heart in many ways. He wasn't sure why, but he to make it stop. _To go help._

Jack turned to start running again but Reaper caught his shoulder. The mask was leaking again, dark plumes of mist that blended in the world, while casting a ominous shadow.

"I said you have to leave," the words were final. 

Jack fell back, past the flames, past where his feet were standing. He kept falling, watching with wide eyes as the mask disappeared from view and the flames extinguished quickly, leaving him enveloped by the darkness.

The cot creaked in warning as it tipped over. Jack sat up on the ground, trying to shake away the ebbing surrealness of the dream. A glance around noted that he was early. Even Neilman wasn't up yet. His fellow soldiers all snored peacefully. Out of the corner of his eye, the dark mist appeared. Reaper stood at the corner, leaning against the wall, arms crossed in annoyance. Jack disregarded him with a glare, climbing back into the cot and forgetting about him entirely.

•••••••••••••••

The briefing was short and to the point. That drone they were sent to retrieve yesterday managed to scout out the location and defences of the Omnium before getting shot down. They weren't very detailed but it was more than they had before. Reinforcements were to arrive later in the week to aid in a final assault on the fortress with SEP running the front line. The whole meeting was what he expected, but it was the overall pressure of the unsaid risk that unnerved him. Every soldier knew it but held their tongue.

The assault would be a big one. With not many of SEP left, they had to make the most of it. Enhancements or not, anyone could bleed out. No one thought they were all going to make it out. Many already had makeshift funerals for those left behind. It only served to motivate them further. SEP made them stronger. It didn't make them invincible.

Neilman let his concern show. Tullen didn’t even try to crack a single joke afterwards, opting to toy with something in his pocket instead. Philips had to relieve Castillo at the medical tent. They needed all the help they could get.

Jack didn’t meet up with the rest of them, too keen on the man-wraith standing next to him. Within the crowd, the ghost was a hair’s breadth away, his cold presence refreshing but Jack didn't acknowledge him. The wraith made a space for himself, somehow. No one walked through him or stepped in his spot. No one, despite the cramped building, stood near him or where the dark shadow was. That had Jack concerned and was honestly the only reason he looked over.

The wraith didn't look at him once, seeming to listen to the commanders as they spoke. He was different, to say the least. His mask wasn't leaking but a look down revealed dark clouds of mist. Thankfully it wasn't much with the dark plumes dissipating as they hit the air. Every so often Jack noticed that mask tilt in his direction when certain plans were explained. The vague wording caught him too, but, like many soldiers, he didn't say anything. For the most part, Jack ignored the ghost and focused on the briefing.

Reaper hadn't said a word to him since this morning. Not even in his head. He just loomed around in a ghostly(the only way to explain it really) form, not walking but floating around on a cloud of mist. It was weird to have that voice gone, but thank god it finally was. There were no mocking commends, demands, or questions about his decisions. His mind was quiet for once. The only exchange was constantly spotting that hood around him at all times. 

“Morrison,” Commander Huang barked after the briefing.

“Sir,” Jack saluted the man.

“I need to speak with you. Privately,” with a quick ‘yessir’ he followed the commander into one of the commandeered buildings. The ghost barely managed to make it past the door as it shut, much to Jack’s amusement. 

The building used to be an apartment complex. It once stood with at least ten stories and about five rooms each, if the damaged directory was anything to go off of. Now it was a third that size with the top room given a more 'open air' view. The windows were boarded up, the slits the only source of natural lighting. Inside, various monitors and holoscreens were set up, along with some other tech that Jack didn’t recognize. They bathed the room in an ethereal blue glow, coupled by the nearly silent hum of fans and other components.

Jack walked behind the Commander and noticed Kite. She shot him a small quirk of a smile before returning to her stance in the corner. Jack stood next to her, taking a moment to examine the gauze around her thigh. She caught him looking and rolled her eyes. She was here and alive. That was what was important. 

“This is Dr. Torres from the research and maintenance team,” Commander Huang introduced a thin man with glasses. “He has some questions for you. Please keep this in mind that this meeting is highly confidential and only a need to know basis.”

Since the war was much more than they originally thought, the government shipped out some scientists to help figure it out. Like many others, Jack didn’t think the warzone was a good place to send top researchers, but in fact, they proved rather vital to the effort. Being on the ground gave them a more familiar feel for the soldiers and their fighting tactics, allowing them to more accurately devise new solutions and examine their enemy. Each was motivated on 'saving their own lives' while facing the war instead of paychecks outside in a comfy lab.

Logistics aside, the scientists adapted and made the best of it. Also helped that they had a large, formally trained military force at their beck and call, minus the usual prying eyes of review boards and ethical code. This was their field day with the only risk of dying by indirect fire or attack by bots at any second of the day.

After first dealing with the irritatingly difficult task of ‘retrieving intact material’ the scientists were quick to work out some more specialized weapons against the bots. Bullets augmented to pierce the thick metal chassis and send an elective shock strong enough to deactivate the bot. Grenades that exploded with a polymer or some shit- they just called it ‘Gunk’- that slowed the bots while eating away at their bodies due to some acid. (They deemed that too costly to make and ineffective, much to the disagreement of the soldiers using them.) Their proudest invention had to be the EMP wave that could disrupt all electronic equipment within a certain area. It was a remote device with an added explosive component depending on the mission. The only problem that it also disabled their high tech pulse rifles, comlinks, and a bunch of other very necessary equipment, and the explosion wasn't exactly, small or contained. So much to their disappointment, it wasn’t used very often. In their down time, they worked on little things, like upgrades to existing weapons, and little quality of life gadgets like improved comlinks, radar, and homing beacons. 

“Thank you for retrieving the drone,” Dr.Torres started with a weary smile. 

“No problem at all, sir.” Kite replied. The man drew a flat line, skittish about something. Then again, most scientists were like that. As brave as they were, for many, it was their first time in an actual warzone. 

Torres cleared his throat, “Neilman has informed me that you found this.”

The scientist gestured to the repurposed dining table. On it was the broken drone, powered off, the odd staff they found the other day, and, which made he and Kite cringe, the torso of an Omnic with large wires protruding from its back, thankfully powered off. They hoped. Torres picked up the staff, it was dull but clean. The light at the end was off and the way at how gently the man held it, meant it was something impressive. 

“Do you know what this is?” Jack wanted to roll his eyes. The scientists loved to do this, asking before telling, and warzone or not, playing on the melodramatics. He always figured it was their only leg up here, so it was understood among all of them to just let the scientists play their game. 

“No, sir,” Jack replied. “We found it next to the drone.”

“It let out a really loud sound,“ Kite continued, ”And turned on all the bots in the gorge.”

Torres nodded. He turned the cane over in his hands and stepped back to the table, “After it was dropped off, we examined it immediately and have come to some, inauspicious results.”

With a click, the light was blinking once more, a quick rhythm. Kite reached for her side arm on instinct, but lowered her hand at the glare of Commander Huang. The red lights. It was another association. Like needles and pain. _Red lights and danger._ Jack shot her an understanding look, which she nodded in response. 

The scientist, stood behind the table.

_Click._

Kite and Jack covered their ears, grimacing at the high pitched screech. Even their Commander was effected, turning away, grimacing. Only the scientist was able to grin and bear it, or frown more like it. 

There, on the table was the heavy thud and creaking of moving metal. The drone lit up, blinking furiously but unable to leave the ground. What had Jack and Kite draw their weapons was the torso, alive and attempting to climb off the table. Its red lights stared at them angrily. _If only the scientist didn’t move in the way._

His rapid voice barely registered until the man was standing in front of the bot, “It’s fine.” 

He took something out of his pocket, a remote it seemed, and pointed it at the bot. With a click, the torso went limp once more, but that didn’t help the soldiers relax. 

“Hardwired,” he reassured, showing the remote in his hand. “The test subject is non-lethal.”

“No disrespect, sir, but they’re only non-lethal _when they’re dead_ ,” Jack remarked, replacing his side arm. 

Torres ignored his comment, adjusting his glasses,”Well, we seem to have a sort of activation device. It's timed before sending out a signal within an area.”

“Remote activation?” Commander Huang interjected. He was surprised. Wasn’t he told this already? The Commander turned to them, ”You said this was found in a gorge?” 

“It was a cave in on a sewer system, “Jack reported. “A building had fallen and the whole thing collapsed but it seemed like it was there for a while. There were Omnics buried in it.”

“Might’ve been an unused unit, “ he purposed. “Had a whole group go missing earlier last week.” 

“Or they could’ve been planted there,” Kite suggested. “For an ambush.”

That was the problem fighting the Omnics, it felt like nothing could progress. They would fight without tiring. They didn't have to stop for food or rest and didn't need as much resources like the military. They moved in waves, formulaic and without fear, intent on destroying everything in their path. It was a path that stormed through towns and left them in rubble, without any survivors. They didn't take hostages. They didn't negotiate. Their only intentions were to destroy and kill. The apathetic enemy ideal that was always presented was acted out to the T right before his eyes. 

Fighting a man meant that he would mess up. Fighting a machine didn’t mean that they _didn’t_ mess up, it meant that they knew all the ways man messed up and would just avoid those. 

The Commander didn’t seemed to respond. He merely dismissed them from the building and asked to keep the talk private, as usual, until everything was found out. 

Once outside, Kite’s usual smile picked up. She shot him a mischievous look and smirk, “Didn’t get to thank you for your stunt the other day.”

“Oh, no Kite. You don’t have to,” Jack smirked back. “From one soldier to another. You saved me back there too.”

“Yeah, one soldier to another, huh,” Kite huffed. Briefly, he thought he’d be fine, until she cuffed him right on the bandaged shoulder. He grunted. “Don’t pull that hero shit with me, Morrison.”

“Hey, you needed help.” This conversation sounded familiar.

“No, I didn’t need your help.”

He glared at her.

“Fine, I didn’t ask for your help,” she didn’t look at him, merely staring ahead at the others milling around base camp. “I didn’t _ask_ you to risk your life for me.”

“Well I did because I wanted to. It’s not like I could just leave you.” 

“But you didn’t have to do what you did,” Kite turned to face him. ”I don’t want you to end up like Frederick, Jack.”

Her words wavered, and for the first time, Kite actually looked sad, like everything around her finally started to affect her. 

“Amy,-"

“Just fucking dumbasses, the both of you,” Kite continued before shaking her head. They stopped and that grin returned to her face, but her eyes were wet “Look, I don’t want your blood on my hands. So keep that hero shit to a minimum, kay?” 

“I’ll try,” he gave a hopeful smile, earning another cuff in the arm. 

They continued walking back to meet up with Neilman and Philips, but Jack couldn’t help but look behind him again. Not like there was anything to see. The wraith had been besides him the whole time. 

•••••••••••••••

Dr.Ingrum was a nervous sort of woman, like all the scientists, but she was the only one who volunteered to assist on the search. She shuffled along besides Philips, who was trying his best to calm her with some conversation. She carried a backpack and Castillo managed to find some light armor in her size. Jack carried her suitcase of equipment which was damn heavier than it looked. After the whole demonstration, Commander Huang thought it be a good idea to check for any remaining beacons. Dr.Torres was unfortunately indisposed, despite the whole thing being _his_ idea. Probably wanted to tinker with that bot torso some more. It was a pastime the researchers loved, as if they’d never seen the insides of an Omnic before. Though they were trying to figure out what made them go rogue, so there was something to that. 

Reaper walked by his side, solemnly. More mist was leaking from his figure, his outline blurring, but he continued on even as dark clouds trailed behind him. He didn’t look at Jack and still wouldn’t speak to him for whatever reason, which was fine. The silent treatment would only last so long. Besides, Jack wouldn’t be surprised to find him not there one day, having finally receded into his mind _where he belonged_. Nonetheless, it was odd to see him so much but not speak. 

The scientist gasped when they reached the gorge. The skirmish from earlier left the place littered with more Omnic parts. The hefty wire was still dangling from the lightpost. Jack set down the suitcase and Castillo started to set up actual climbing equipment. 

Ingrum thanked him and opened up the case with a click. Inside were all sorts of buttons and screens that Jack couldn’t figure out. 

“Your comlinks please,”she asked politely, holding out a hand. 

Philips and Jack didn’t hesitate, handing her the devices. She took out some small tools and popped open their covers. In moments, she handed them back with a prideful smile. 

“I’ve upgraded the tracking in them. So we should be able to monitor you from up here,” she assured, turning on a holoscreen. A map display of the sewers pulled up in that light, almost solid blue. One bright white dot caught their eye.

“There’s an anomaly here. Do you think you can check that out?” 

“Will do,“ Jack replied. He and Philips replaced their comlinks and tested them before descending. 

Jack scouted the area once his feet hit the ground. Scattered parts of Omnics littered the ground, some half buried by the rubble, others glinting in the light. Broken bodies were piled up by the open pipe, something Jack paid close attention to. Black mist fell from the top, dispersing before reforming into the wraith. It was rather impressive to watch but Jack’s attention was elsewhere. 

Philips landed behind him before signalling to Castillo uptop. 

“Be safe boys,” Castillo chirped into the mike. 

“We’ll be fine,” Philips replied, following Jack with careful steps as they scanned the gorge. There wasn’t much else from the first time they were here, minus the huge crowd of bots and their added remains. Jack tried to find the place where the drone fell, but it didn’t seem like there was anything else there. Philips shook his head from the other side. 

“Castillo, we’re heading in,” Jack reported. She gave a quick reply and the two headed for the pipe. 

Philips pushed the broken bodies, each hitting the ground with a crash. For extra measure, each took turns smashing in the heads and joints. They wouldn’t have a repeat of last time. 

Jack turned on his light and headed in first. Rifle drawn, the pipe was a bit of a squeeze, causing him to hunch over. Philip’s boots squeaked behind him. 

“The fuck is that smell,” Philips muttered. 

“We are in a sewer,” Jack quipped but grimacing. The smell was god awful, their enhanced senses only emphasising it. 

“Keep heading straight down this line and take a left,” Ingrum directed. 

The pipe opened up into a larger tunnel. Jack jumped out, followed by Philips. Philips took something out of his pocket and marked the metal opening. They followed Ingrum’s direction, Jack trying to remember every right and left turn. Philips stopped every once in awhile to mark a pipe or ladder with, what Jack found out to be, chalk. 

“It should be straight ahead.” 

Both soldiers stopped. Faintly there was something coming. A lot of somethings. 

The heavy footfalls of metal. 

The sound was growing closer, echoing in the tunnel as the soldiers scrambled to fit into one of the pipes. They each crouched in one of their own, lights off and listening. Someone one else was in his pipe, and even in the darkness, the cold presence was a dead giveaway. Jack only counted his blessing that the wraith didn’t physically form in this small ass space. Reaper aside, he tried to focus on the heavy fall of metal. He dared peek around their spot just a bit. Red lights. _Lots of them._

The crowd of Omnics were walking in formal lines, their bright red lights revealing their positions as they passed. They weren’t scouts like the nimble androids they fought earlier. They sounded heavier, more armored. From the low light of their eyes, he couldn’t make out the exact number but there was a lot. As in, a full squadron moving into position in the narrow tunnels. 

The soldiers prayed silently as the sound of their footsteps were reduced to faded echoes in the distance. 

They both waited, counting heartbeats before emerging. Jack stepped carefully onto the platform, clicking on his light. Philips was down the tunnel, doing the same. Their lights blinded each other briefly before they adjusted. 

“We got bots down here. A lot of them,“ Philips toggled the comlink. “We have to disengage. “

“But the anomaly,” Ingrum sounded upset, but changed on the dime. “No, nevermind. Head back and we’ll try again another time.”

Try again? 

They had a whole squadron just pass them by. For all they know, there could be more down here. 

“They look like they’re heading south of our position. Can you reroute us?” Jack asked.

Ingrum gave an affirmative before directing their route with the soldiers silently following. Philips walked in front, at a slower pace, more cautious with his light surveying the surrounding tunnels. Jack watched behind them, waiting for those footsteps to return. They walked by ladders and other pipeline openings, passing the ones he tagged earlier. The tags started to dwindle in number until they came upon a closed off area. Ingrum had grown quiet, much to their confusion and concern.

“We got a dead end. The tunnel collapsed,” Philip reported.

The comlink gave an insufferable crackle. Through its hissing, Ingrum’s words came out chopped,“I can’t...reroute.”

Fuck these comlinks sometimes. 

“I tagged something back that way. We can try there,” Philips suggested, leading the way. They two trekked back towards the sole marker, but were unable to find anymore. Trying the comlink again only resulted in more crackles and a curse from Philips. Soon Jack noticed the fervent blinking of the tracker starting to slow down. Down one hallway, he could already see the bright red lights heading for them in uniform fashion.

They had to get out of here. _Fast._

Looking around, he almost jumped back as the flashlight illuminated the bright white mask. Reaper stood, half-formed in the darkness, billowing clouds falling from his form. He said nothing but pointed down a tunnel. He wouldn’t lie right? Jack furrowed his brow at the wraith, debating.

“I think it’s this way,” Jack offered.

Philips sent him a confused glance. 

“Just a hunch,” as in ‘I have a ghost telling me the way.’

Jack followed the wraith’s direction, who then misted in front of him to the next intersection. This continued, with Reaper directing them past cave ins, through connecting pipelines, and several turns. In any sense, it seemed like he was just throwing them for a loop, but Jack noticed more and more of the tags. He grew less hesitant, and so had Philips. 

“How far do you think this goes?” Philips whispered after a while.

“Through the whole town I guess,”Jack made the next turn, watching the wraith quickly mist away only to reform feet in front of him. 

Philips sighed, “We’re fucked, aren’t we Jack?”

“Can’t say for sure yet.”

“Yeah, we are. You’ve seen the reports. They're way tamer than what we've seen."

"And, we’re here to help and try to stop them. Like superheros remember?" 

“Superheros don’t _die_ , Jack. I heard Huang talking with the brass the other night.”

“And?”

“They’re talking about nuking the town.”

“ _What_ ,” Jack stopped to look at him.

“If the last attack doesn’t go through, I heard him talking about just going ahead and bombing the place.”

“ _What about the survivors_? The shops were raided recently. There’s gotta be a lot of people still trapped here.”

“I don’t know Jack. They just...I don’t know.” 

They continued on, passing more and more tags. Soon Reaper stopped in front of one pipe and pointed inside. Philips let out a quiet ‘thank god’ before heading inside first. Jack paused at the opening, staring at the bone mask.

“Thanks,” he muttered, quietly before following the other soldier.

Outside, the air was fresher and Jack took it in big gulps as Philips helped him out of the pipe. At the top of the gorge, Castillo smiled and clasped them on the back. Dr. Ingrum was closing up her suitcase with a disgruntled flick of her hands. Apparently the new trackers was taking up too much power. Just their luck. 

Jack picked up her equipment and she gave a polite ‘thank you’ as the small team headed back to base camp. The wraith was more blatant in natural light. He misted closer to Jack’s side, and it felt right to have him there. 

••••••••

Jack focused on repairing his pulse rifle. The loading mechanism was jammed as the cartridge had gotten stuck. Luckily, he was able to dislodge it and salvage the ammunition. Gently, he placed the cartridge aside. 

Since the drone investigation, they'd been rerouting squadrons of Omnics and systematically taking them out. The only problem was that the Omnics were much faster at adapting. The tunnels weren't used as often as they once were, and more heavy artillery units were sent down in droves. They'd already forced cave ins around the city to stop their advancements.

The room was cold, a commandeered office building used as temporary HQ. Most of the windows were either broken or boarded up. Jack's team had been sent in to detonate one last pathway but ended up intersecting with a stray unit. Thankfully, their training had left them with instincts finally attuned to the war. That wasn't to say there wasn't a cost. They barely managed to win by the skin of their teeth and even then, that wasn't what they could call a win.

A call in with base gave them an additional job: hold the position and keep watch until back up arrived to push in closer to the Omnium. Jack had argued that it would be impossible with their small force, even if two weren't critically injured. The line only rephrased it to ' _sit tight and we'll be there soon_ ', which Jack only prayed that motivated them to get here faster. 

The eerily quiet surroundings made him nervous. 

This wasn't the first deployment of SEP but fighting the Omnics still felt new to him. It wasn't as if he'd never been in real combat before but their automated enemies were just different. No emotion or morality. When it first started, he, like many others, took the news reports with a grain of salt to exaggerations, but everyone knew of the devastation going on outside the facility, even if not as detailed. Despite lockdown, there was no stopping the influx of news and following gossip about the crisis. 

Near the end of the program, they all vibrated with the idea of finally seeing action, of going out and finally testing their enhancements as super soldiers to save the world. That was, until some fell. Scientifically enhanced or not, they were still mortal.

On his first mission, Jack watched a Ravager, as they called them now, destroy a building, uncaring that the structure fell on several damaged bastion units below. The familiar design reminded him of home, of the land he and his father tilled with the use of machinery, yet it's uncanny use sent a shock through his memories. His father always warned him about the dangers of the machines and taught him how to use them safely. How sad now, that those careful instructions drilled into him as a child were replaced with aim and fire on sight.

Backup was supposed to arrive later tonight. That didn't help the tension and worry. He counted the remaining cartridges. Hopefully it would remain quiet. There was a faint groan down the hall. Tullen must have woke up. Field aid could only do so much and even with enhanced soldiers, some wounds needed professionals. 

With deft hands, he reassembled his rifle and carefully laid it in his lap. Blue eyes searched the wraith, who sat on the floor across from him.

They still weren't on the best of terms, but Jack had to admit, it was nice that he was around. The constant presence seemed to put him at ease, but more importantly, gave him something to focus on away from the anxiousness of it all. 

Again, they didn't _talk_ , but Reaper had been _changing_. In the past, he was more distant, preferring to stand against doorways, and appear in corners. He rarely came into view physically, deciding that speaking in person was too tiring, or something like that. Now, Jack could always find him by his side, looming. It was the sheer closeness and boredom that drew his eye at times. The wraith's always changing form was a good distraction. Some days, he manifested legs, other days he didn't. Sometimes he didn't have those red shotgun shells, but Jack thought he saw some missing. Today, he was mostly put together with less mist leaving his body, a good sign (he decided.) Maybe he was in a better mood today? That mask seemed to say no, but hey, what's the worst he could do?

"What do you look like under that mask anyway?" Jack gave him a pointed look.

Reaper snapped up, surprised at being spoken too, even if it was just a repeated question. Jack had pestered him about it all throughout SEP and always got a mocking, unsatisfying answer in return. It became a little game for a while, to see if Jack could make him slip or try to pull it off the wraith himself (which landed him on the ground every single time).

After a moment to of silent hesitation, that growl finally spoke, "Something you'll never get to see."

Jack raised a brow. So he does still have a voice. But it sounded deeper, more scratchy, like it hadn't been used in a while (kind of true). He stared at the wraith with challenge, "Why not?"

Another pause. The wraith shifted a bit, but didn't leave Jack's gaze, "Don't be a little shit."

Never had Jack thought he'd be happy to be insulted by the ghost. He smiled, "Let me guess: You're horribly disfigured and can't bare to show your face in the light of day so you hide it."

Reaper huffed, amused. 

Jack considered that a victory. He stood and looked through the opening slit of the boarded window. Buildings with massive chunks beside it. Some old storefronts with the glass shattered and streets cluttered with debris. Old parts of Omnics lay on the ground, bastion units that were either forcibly deactivated or shot to oblivion. He scanned the street as much as he could and felt the cold wind brush past him. The air smelt of gunpowder and pulse ammunition. 

"What are you thinking?"

Jack turned back for he wraith, meeting him face to fa-mask (apparently another habit to just suddenly be behind him.) One step away, the ghost stares at him expectantly.

"Like you don't already know," he quipped.

The hood tilted to the side, curiously, "Want to hear it from you."

Jack frowned and bit his lip. He glanced outside through the slit again, "I'm worried."

A pause.

Reaper stated, "It won’t be long. Once their scouts don't return, they'll be back. With more numbers."

_I know._

Jack held the grip of his rifle tighter, feeling the uncertainty rip through him.

"Have to be prepared for the worst."

_I know._

So much for distractions.

He turned, staring down the mask, "I won't let it happen."

No response.

The wraith crossed his arms and, despite their similar height, looked down at him, "What if you can't?"

"Don't say that."

"You have to consider-"

" _I know_ ," he almost shouted. _Talking to his wraith was a bad idea._ He _should've_ just left things alone. When they were quiet, things were _fine_. He shouldn't think that the ghost's mind would change (wasn't that his own mind?).

"Jack," he sounded regretful.

"I'm not _blind_. I know what could happen, that's why I'm _worried_."

A hesitant silence.

"Sometimes you care too much and that's what worries me. You get so worked up and don't think," Reaper placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have to care about yourself too, Jack."

Jack scoffed bitterly, "Yeah, if I die, then you don't _exist_ right?"

The hand retreated and Jack regretted his words. He fucked this up _already_. God. 

_Wait._

Why was he so concerned about Reaper anyway? He could just think up a new one if he wanted. _Which he didn’t_. One was already problematic as is.

Reaper bristled as he retreated. It wasn't the maelstrom of dark mist that appeared, which Jack expected, but the wraith didn't speak. Back to silent treatment then? Fine.

Jack grabbed his rifle and walked down the hall towards one of the offices. As he passed by, he detoured into the kitchen.

Neilman was sitting at the table, head in his hands. He was silent, shoulders tensed and didn't acknowledge Jack when he walked in. 

"How're you holding up?" Jack asked.

Neilman didn't answer. He didn't want to talk, and Jack could understand. If his family was dying down the hall, he wouldn’t want to talk either.

Jack checked the pantries again. Nothing really usable seeing as it used to be the office's break room. The fridge was offline but he tried it anyway, finding a long time rotting container of cream cheese and some questionable coffee creamer. Not much in terms of supplies.

"Any word from backup?"

"Said about 2300 to get here," Neilman grunted. He didn’t look up.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Jack placed his rifle on the table and went down the hall. The building wasn't in too bad of a shape but there were spray paint tags of odd symbols and illegible words on the walls. At the end of the hall, he knocked gently, frowning when he heard the soft 'come in'.

The small office had been stripped. The huge bookshelves, now mostly empty, had gear and rifles sitting on it. The large desk had been cleared to make room for the main atop of it. Jack went over to the one side where Castillo was watching over Tullen. The man laid on some tablecloth they found in a cabinet. His fellow soldier had his eyes closed, taking ragged breaths, with strip of cloth along his chest, arms, and a good portion of his upper thigh, stained with blood. 

"How's he doing?" his eyes traced the bandages. 

A raspy laugh from the man, "Please, I'm fine."

Tullen's eyes opened in slits. His smile looked more like a grimace. Castillo shushed him, running a hand through his hair. The man calmed and closed his eyes with a weak sigh. They two waited for his breathing to even out a bit more.

Jack's gaze flicked up to Castillo. Her hair was matted with sweat and a gash was just starting to heal on her cheek. She gave him a grave look,"I did the best I could. It's pretty bad."

Jack nodded with a frown,"Are you okay?"

She gave a half smile with a split lip, "Yeah. I'm a tough bitch to kill."

She fell back onto the leather desk chair, taking in slow breaths. Bandages matching Tullen's wrapped her chest and side.

"Backup supposed to be at 2300. Just a couple more hours to go."

Castillo nodded a thanks, "What's that thing you guys always say? To hell and back?"

Jack gave a sheepish smile, "Yeah."

She grinned,"That's so cheesy."

"Sounds kind of cool though."

"Yeah, I guess. So, to hell and back?"

Jack nodded, "Sure. To hell and back. Drinks on me."

Castillo gave a weak laugh, wheezing as she held her stomach. She held up a hand when he tried to help her, "You're gonna regret that."

" _Make me regret it_ ," Jack helped her adjust in the chair. She muttered a thanks. "And get some rest."

"Yes sir, Commander Morrison," Castillo leaned back, closing her eyes. With that, she let out a sigh as her smile turned wistful. She held Tullen's dog tags and kept rubbing them between her fingers. Jack took that as his cue to leave. He heard a door open and hurried back to the kitchen, renewed vigor in his step. 

Neilman was gone. Philips was in his place, smoking, with an arm wrapped in a sling.

"You okay?" Panic set his tone on edge. 

"Yeah," Philips glanced over." Not as bad as it looks. Kite’s taking a rest down the hall."

Jack continued to stare at him.

"I'm fine Jack. Calm down," he remarked, taking another drag. “Part of a building fell on me.”

Philips held a bitter grin that didn’t reach his eyes, before waving him off with another ‘I’m fine.’

Jack nodded as he grabbed his rifle. The room smelled more of cigarette ash than the remains of buildings outside. It was a nice change but still made him cough, "Got another pack?"

"Last one."

"I'll keep an eye out."

Philips looked at him and shook his head,"Just come back safe, okay?"

With a nod, he headed for the door.

"Hey Morrison."

Jack turned.

"Be careful out there," Philips waved his hand tiredly, "To hell and back.”

"Thanks. To hell and back." Jack called as he walked out onto the street. The afternoon sun was blazing, baking the remaining asphalt. Neilman was waiting for him, his mouth a tight line.

"Ready?" Jack tried to put on a smile. 

Neilman just nodded. Jack's smile fell and he put a hand on his shoulder, "Tullen's a tough guy. He'll pull through."

"Hope he does."

"Just you wait. He'll be collecting on those beers you owe him."

Neilman finally cracked a hint of smile, but the worry bittered him, "Stupid son of a bitch. Can't believe he actually managed to break down those Bastions."

As soon as the smile appeared, a small frown replaced it as he shook his head, muttering, "Fucking moron..."

The two lingered in a brief silence before testing their coms. With a nod, they headed out for their perimeter sweeps.

Jack examined the buildings he past, noting which ones were in danger of collapse and which ones he needed to search. He walked steadily, rifle at the ready as he scanned. Nothing so far. After completing two laps around the immediate area, he went on to check the buildings. Most had caved in on themselves or another building. He checked each one cautiously. By the third building, he rounded the perimeter again, always watching the horizon and listening. He squeezed the rifle tightly, felt himself tense up as his senses heightened. His paranoia began to flair as he rounded the corners.

"Tell me something else you can do," Jack said absently. His communicator was on mute. They wouldn't hear him right now. He checked a building again. Empty. The remains of fallen bastion unit lay in ruins.

The silence that followed made him reconsider. Absently, he checked behind him, surprised not to see that swirling black cloak following him. Confusion mixed with anxiety, making him fidget. He continued through the building, sweeping it again just to give him something more to do.

_’Shouldn't you be more focused?’_

He sighed, finally leaving the building, "Getting antsy."

_’Hmm.’_

Jack continued his lap, eyes continuing to scan. He heard a muttered whisper behind him, only to swivel around to that wraith. He seemed more solid, no clouds. Jack didn't spare him more than a glance as he pushed past the broken remains of a door into the shop, a convenience store of some kind. The shelves were all tipped over, its products in shattered remains. He kicked a can out of his way.

"Can't you go through walls or some shit?"

"No."

"Thought you were a ghost."

"Thought you weren't an asshole but look, we're both wrong." 

Jack smirked as walked down what used to be an aisle, scanning any items. Hopefully they’d stay this semblance of normal, "What can you do?"

"I can shadow step." Reaper plucked a can off the ground and turned it over, "Something like teleporting."

Jack furrowed his brow but kicked open the back room door. Empty. Untouched. He looked past the small safe and extra boxes of stock. There, on a higher shelf, with a broken lock, was his prize. He plucked the remaining cartons into his pocket, taking a moment to look at the colorful label trying to overcompensate for the clear Surgeon General warning.

"That just sounds made up, "Jack returned to the storefront, doing one final sweep. "Any limitations or is it just some god power?"

"It hurts. A lot."

Jack exited the store, finding nothing else of value. He kicked himself for not being able to find a first aid kit or anything but at least he had the cartons in his pocket, "Mind elaborating?"

"It _fucking_ hurts. How's that?"

Jack shrugged, returning to his route.

A crackle, "Reporting in. All clear on my side."

He turned on his com, "All clear too."

His footsteps crunched on the rubble and asphalt. The sun would set soon and his shift would end. Hopefully, his would be the last before backup came. He peered past the buildings towards the horizon. His com crackled again.

"...I don't like this at all."

"Me neither," Jack returned to his sweep, checking buildings for a second time. His com remained silent and he held the pulse rifle tightly in his grip. He didn't like the silence. He hated it.

He walked past another building, but something caught his eye. It wasn't the wraith behind him but something _real_. He peered into the building before taking a cautious step inside. The broken glass crunched under his footsteps. Jack continued on with a cautious pace, checking over everything. 

A can fell in the back room.

Quickly, he kicks open the door, rifle poised to fire but stopped. The weapon was withdrawn as Jack toggled the comlink.

"Neilman, we got bigger problems."

"What is it?"

Jack kneeled down with his rifle aside, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible.

"Hey, buddy I'm not gonna hurt you," he said gently, holding a hand out.

The kid cowered, watching him, "Are you a good guy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm a good guy. I want to help you, okay?"

The boy looked about seven, one hand clutching a can of whatever. His clothes were singed at the hem and dirt was on his face, but the smile he gave melted the soldier's heart.

"Okay," the kid took his hand.

"Got a survivor here. There might be more in the area," Jack reported. Rifle in one hand and the kid holding his other, they walked out if the store together.


	3. Absent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took way longer than necessary to be made. (Life just wanted some attention. ) But here we go. Might be a little slower with the next update (sorry). No real set schedule but it makes me feel bad not updating within a week. ( ; A ; ) The anticipation of a new chapter man. 
> 
> Enjoy ( ' v ' )/
> 
> ****Fixed some grammar and typos.

The kid's name was Evan. He was seven and a half. He had an younger brother, Kyle, and both liked cars, especially the antique ones with wheels that their father bought them for their birthday. His mom and dad were not on the best of terms but always tried to look like they were together for the kids. (Evidently, it wasn't working seeing as Evan told him about all this.)

Jack sat across the table with Philips. His coat was around Evan's shoulders as the boy sipped from a carefully cut can of soup. (Philips proved him wrong about his tiny lighter.) He seemed more comfortable than earlier at least. After the initial fear, he was very talkative and glad to be with the 'good guys'.

“Can I see your guns?” Evan asked between sips.

“Maybe after you’re finished eating, okay?” Jack offered. The kid gave an enthusiastic nod.

Neilman returned, his face grim. He motioned for Jack to come outside. Philips nodded and started asking the boy about his favorite superheros.

Outside in the evening air, Neilman made sure the door was shut behind him, “They’re delayed.”

He should be surprised, but he wasn’t. There was always something that had to go wrong,"How late?"

"Two days. One of the cave ins wasn't enough. Found a group close to base so they had to hole up."

Jack groaned as Neilman toyed with the comlink.

The kid had a family. Going to find them wasn't even a question, but extra people, even just three, meant more rationing. Their super soldier metabolisms meant twice the energy consumption and thus twice the rations. They could split that out for three more people. The area wasn't exactly picked clean. They could scavenge more. Then there was Castillo and Tullen. Now Philips was injured, which only left him, Neilman and Kite. With just the three of them taking shifts, they'd eventually wear out.

"We'll think on it later Jack. Just, go get some rest," Neilman offered,"I got first watch."

Jack wanted to protest but felt the aches of the day and the stress of now finally catch up to him. With a nod, he headed inside. The kitchen was empty, but the carton of smokes was gone. He headed down the hall for one of carpeted offices. (It was the most comfort they could get.) The door closed behind him and he pushed the desk out of the way.

Insomnia ever present, he tried to sleep but ended up thinking about the stock they had on hand: ammo, rations, medical supplies, what was scavenged and what was lost. He thought about Evan's family, wondering if and how he would have to break it to the kid if something happened in the night. (That thought made him uneasy.) He went back to the supplies, portioning them for at least five extra people, keeping in mind the indefinite nature of back-up arriving. In the end, he could only think of the worst scenarios. 

Jack stared at the ceiling in darkness. The room was warm, despite the chilled night, or was he just used to it being colder? 

Where was Reaper? 

Thinking on it now, the wraith had disappeared after finding that kid, though Jack wasn't really paying attention to him either. He wasn't around since they got back. He knew that for sure.

"You there?" he whispered. 

He waited. 

And waited.

Only silence. It was worth a shot.

Were they still fighting? It didn't feel like it. They both said some things but they moved passed it, _right?_

Earlier seemed fine too, like the whole thing got swept under the rug. Maybe Reaper just wanted to ignore what happened and forget about it just like Jack did. 

Strange how much autonomy an imaginary figment had, not to mention the monopoly of his thoughts.

Though, could he still call Reaper just a ' _figment_ '?

He was more, _too much actually_ , too much to be some small bit imaginary friend. Too nuanced and complicated, to be a simple 'figment'.

Logistically speaking, Reaper was-is a manifestation of his thoughts,the more negative, pessimistic ones in particular, so they didn't exactly agree on a lot of things by principle. For a while, he was just some bizarro-type, complete opposite of everything Jack stood for and thought about.

That one-dimensional view proved easier, simpler to accept.

But then they talked. _And then he stayed_.

And Jack realized that he wasn't _leaving_.

Reaper went from some ghost he thought up during a near-death experience in some fucked up form of comfort to Jack considering him a separate entity, like a person all his own (which wasn't hard, given his attitude.) The transition was too smooth for him to notice, but he did.

When the wraith was out of sight and literally out of mind, as if he never existed in the first place, that he became all Jack could ever think of. In those grey moments, when the wraith would disappear for a bit, Jack noticed the sheer _emptiness_ of when he was gone. The simple void of his presence called Jack's attention, prompting the contemplation of what exactly the wraith was, in reality and to Jack. Each time lead to the same conclusion: Reaper was-is Reaper. 

There was no other way to explain it. 

He had his own rules, personality, and opinions (which were very vocal), but what struck Jack was how easily this wraith fit into his life.

Once, Jack dabbled with the conclusion of Reaper being some kind of reflection of his inner self, a very selfish self he never realized. A theory that has been holding up but felt off, which brings him to now.

Reaper didn't fit that anymore.

Reaper is Reaper, a moody wraith who likes to loom in dark corners and watch him, who was prone to tantrums apparently, and dematerialized when he was upset.

Since SEP, the presence of another that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, never elicited any real fear, just surprise. Instead, he gave comfort just by speaking to him, as if he was another person, one he could divulge his secrets without fear of ridicule or being ashamed. 

Reaper became a figure of comfort, of familiarity, and ,dare he say, of safety. 

That forever looming figure that watched over him and could read him and his moods. He could tell when Jack was getting irritated by stagnant scores, when his anxiety narrowed his focus into worry, and when he pretended not to know his true feelings. Reaper was there and open, somehow lulling him into a safe, too safe, where his words went wild, too indulgent in the idea of finally being understood. The wraith listened, but always kept quiet, focusing solely on Jack.

The cryptic words between them didn't help, and neither did the vague inkling in the back of his mind about something important he's been forgetting. Confused, self-chiding thoughts mixed with the tangle of emotion for a cluster fuck that could only be the shredded remains of his mind.

He was-is what Jack never thought of or didn’t want to think of. The contrast between them always confused him, made him question himself in the small hours of the morning or during the monotonous paces of training. 

Then, as if it never happened, he would appear and all those thoughts would be swept away. Everything felt right, _like he was always there_ and Jack had to try to remember moments when he wasn’t. Reaper was much more, too much. 

Reaper was-is Reaper. 

There was no other way to put it.

Logistics aside, he was here to stay and Jack had accepted that long ago. It wasn't like he could get rid of him either.

With a sigh, he turned over. It always ended up like this: Jack contemplating Reaper's existence, a tired, old argument with himself. Even with the wraith missing, he was all that was on Jack's mind, an effective distraction but a costly one in sanity.

As the moments ticked by, he expected the icy chill up his spine and that sudden drop in temperature. There was neither.

•••••••••••••••

Jack rolled his shoulder and grabbed his rifle. He opened the office door just as Kite was about to knock. She looked haggard and raised a brow at him. Deciding sleep was more important, she stepped aside for him to pass, muttering a ‘good luck.’

The old office, like the other buildings, used to be taller, but the constant conflict chopped it to less than half its original size. The stairway was caved in and obviously, the elevators were out of order, so they had to get creative. Jack climbed his way up the rubble towards what once was the third floor. The night was cool and the sky as bleak, only dimly lit by the moon. An office chair had been thrown up here for some sort of comfort.

Staring out at the rubble of the city, he thought about the battles that went on here, the lives lost. But at least there were a couple that could still be saved. He wondered about Evan's family and the other survivors, how they managed to live through the wreckage and fear, standing on a sliver of hope that help would come. Well, they were here to be that sliver and hopefully that will be enough.

The chair creaked when he sat down and blue eyes turned to the horizon, or what wasn’t obscured by ruins. On the ground was a chipped mug that smelled of ash. Cigarette buds stuck out of it. Jack pushed it to the side so he wouldn't knock it over. Rifle in hand, he stared out, filled with an uneasy calm, like a moment before the storm.

He felt, more than heard, when the wraith appeared by his side; though, he raised a brow. The air smelled like a thicker layer of gunpowder, ash, and burning.

"Where've you been?" he asked blankly, staring out into the dimly lit night.

"Some business," the reply sounded tired.

"Ghost business?"

"Wraith. And sure," the bite was still there but it wasn’t as strong.

"What kind of business? Been talking to other ghosts?

"If there was someone other than you to talk to, do you think I'd be here?"

Jack turned to the wraith and flicked on his pocket light.

Blue eyes went wide. 

The wraith flinched in the sudden light. He seemed the same as ever, that bone mask bathed in a sinister glow, but there was _more_. New scratches and small divots marred that mask. Some shotgun shells were missing and many of the usual belts were gone, edges frayed implying a forceful removal.

"What happened?" he stood.

Reaper sighed, reached forward, and clicked off the pocket light, "Like I said, some business."

When his eyes readjusted, the wraith had misted over to the edge of the building, staring out at the sight. Jack turned on the pocket light again briefly, noticing the new tatters and holes at the hem of the once pristine leather.

His wraith had been attacked. 

In reality or metaphorically? (Did that even make sense?)

And by what? 

Or was this some kind of symbolism of his mind falling to pieces? (Though that would imply that it wasn't already.)

Cutting the light, Jack sat once more, "Trying to go for the war-torn look?"

Reaper hummed and sat on the edge, legs(?) hanging off the roof. The cold air was biting but felt nice as silence surrounded them. Jack resumed his watch, but every so often, he glanced over at that hood. 

Reaper is Reaper.

There was no doubt about that, and no better way to explain it.

“How many do you think there are?” Jack muttered.

“Survivors? Not many,” the ghost replied. “Towns like this? Thousands.”

A pause.

"What are you thinking?" the white mask turned to him.

"Nothing."

A tilt of the head, "Spit it out Jack."

'Do you think it's hopeless?'

'Have I failed?'

'What should I do?'

Each question halted on his lips. They tasted bitter on his tongue, seasoned with a building guilt. 

"I'm just...," Jack shied away like a child caught doing something wrong.

"Worried,” he finished.”Aren't you always?"

"Hard not to be," he huffed.

A sigh.

Reaper stood, surprising the soldier, as he misted over, "You shake when you're anxious."

"I do?" Jack raised a brow.

"Yeah," a clawed hand held his, stilling his own. "That's how you miss. You get too worked up. Just relax and focus."

"I'm getting a pep talk from a ghost," a weak joke.

A huff, but that claw didn't leave.

•••••••••••••••

The city streets were dirty with rubble as Jack followed Neilman and Philips towards the old bakery. Evan had given the best directions he could, which was riddled with a lot of odd descriptions for buildings and land markers. The vague area was just outside the perimeter sweep, thankfully. Nonetheless, each soldier agreed to take the time to search building by building just in case.

All that resulted were many broken storefronts and turned over shelves. Many buildings had only rubble while others had signs of raids. They found some tools in one building and some cans of soup in another, but overall, there wasn’t too much. Philips was happy to find a slip of a comic book shop that was barely spared the wreckage, excitedly pocketing a couple relatively intact issues.

What unnerved them all was the trend among the buildings: tunnels.

Many of the stores near the main road had a tunnel, one that should’ve lead to a main route via the sewers or so. They were usually found in back rooms, small tunnels right in the ground that a soldier had to crawl though. The horror from the realization of the connected tunnels paled in comparison to the confusion that followed since most of the tunnels were caved in.

_From the inside._

Someone had forcibly caused the cavern to crumble, blocking the entrance by rubble.

Even stranger still, the few that weren’t caved in from the inside had a large very suspicious blockade instead: broken Omnics. Few tunnels allowed the soldiers to investigate, usually only a couple feet at a time. The blockade of broken chassis fermented their concern and anxiety. What had done this? It was possible that one of the rogue bots had gone rogue again and decided to fight back but the placement was too methodical, too intentional. They all hoped it was a third party fighting against the bots, hopefully a later ally. Though none of them ruled out the possibility that this was intentional on the bots’ part. The Omnics did work in stranger, erratic ways that sometimes diverged from military strategy and common moral.

Nielman headed the expedition at the front while Jack watched behind them. Philips volunteered to examine the buildings. It had been a rousing argument to convince Kite to stay back at base instead, but it was the right choice. Injured or not, Philips was part of their team, and it was better to have a fully able-bodied person on base than an injured one. Still, as competent and sarcastic Philips was being, he was slowing down. They all noticed this. 

“You check this one Morrison,” Neilman suggested at the next building. With a nod, Jack entered the department store cautiously, rifle at the ready. He skimmed past turned over racks and shelves before giving the all clear and heading into the back. As he pushed open the door, pebbles crumbled under his feet. Thank god, he kept a firm grip on the door.

Jack pulled himself up into the door way, staring down into the tunnel. This one was larger than the others, a huge gaping hole in the ground that lead right from the door. Inside was darkness, and gunshots.

Loud shots of a high caliber gun. Jack held his own pulse rifle tightly. The heavy shots were met with the quick rhythm of returning fire. The two layered within the battle accented by the heavy crash of metal something- _somethings_. Jack called over to Neilman and Philips, who joined his side, peering into the darkness. The heavy fire soon faded as a final shot was struck, followed by a crash. The soldiers waited, poised for someone, something, anything to emerge. The moments ticked by and the silence was deafening.

“We should check it out,” Jack suggested to a hesitant Neilman. Philips agreed, ending any debate before it started. A quick equipment check had Jack and Neilman descending into the tunnel with Philips wishing them good luck and the faithful ‘to hell and back.’

The tunnel was on a slope, a relatively steep slope that made the soldiers watch their footing. Their pocket lights cut through the darkness, Jack in front, with Neilman close behind. The size of the tunnel was probably meant for larger units, seeing as the two men could stand almost to full height inside. It didn’t take long for them to reach the opening. A brief passage through a narrow corridor and they walked into a very open space.

Both soldiers stopped.

The place was littered with the broken bodies of bots. Each solider took a moment to verify each one. They managed to identify at least fifteen, seeing as all of them had parts viciously ripped from them. Limbs, weapons, even severed heads from each of their bodies were scattered in a hasty manner. None looked to be getting up anytime soon, thankfully. Jack examined one side while Neilman took the other. Based eviscerated the metal casings were and the loud roar from earlier, this handiwork some kind of high caliber fire arm had to be used. The spread pattern implied a shot gun but Jack wasn't sure. Moreover, some bots had their inner workings savagely ripped out, metal bars of endoskeletons broken or bent with frayed, torn wires. What got Jack the most was that many of these bots were new, with polished chassis that shined in the light now marred by scratches and gun shots. Some of the wires were still sparking.

It wasn’t the time to wonder ‘what’ or ‘why’. It was about ‘ _was it still here_ ’ and ‘ _we need to avoid this_ ’. 

Most importantly, it was about getting these civilians out as fast as they could.

•••••••••••••••

The front of the clinic had an aged sign, half destroyed, only reading: '&Johnson...Care'. more importantly, some hover cars were stacked up in front of the entrance, practically embedded into the front, metal doors. The wreckage had long since been abandoned, but none of the soldiers really paid attention to it.

They were more concerned about the next part of that kid's instructions: to go through the bakery.

The clinic, itself, was a fairly large building, encompassing the lot and flanked by other destroyed buildings, none being accessible. The three split, searching for any building that could have a tunnel but found none. 

Jack stared at the wreckage and the building. Hopefully they were right, and the place didn't seem broken into so maybe they were fine. 

But there was always a chance that they weren't.

"Hey guys," Philips called them over. "I think I found a way."

They regrouped by Philips as he pushed away a slab of debris, revealing a narrow alleyway.

"Can we even fit?" Neilman examined the passage. A child could easily fit through it but for an adult, it'd be quite the squeeze, excluding to need for their equipment.

"If you try," Philips nodded, breathing out deeply before side stepping through the narrow passage. Philips was a skinny man to begin with but the equipment grated noisily against the brick in protest.

"How far is it?" Jack called.

"Not far. Just a couple steps more," he yelled back as the two watched. 

Philips finally exited the narrow passage, rolling his shoulder and examining the other side.

"Found the bakery," he announced.

It took Jack longer to get through, his build, though slim, also had trouble with the narrow gap. It didn't help that the brick forced him to face one direction, unable to turn around to see behind him. The solid wall against his back felt like it would close in at any moment. Jack focused on Philips on the other side as he crossed, faintly registering the minute tug of brick against the fabric of his clothes.

Jack sighed in relief at the other side and the two waited on Neilman, who actually got stuck. It took some combination of pulling, sucking in air, and the advice to 'Think narrow.' for the other soldier to finally pull through.

The back of the clinic was about the same, wreckage littering the area of a once parking lot. Behind the clinic was the bakery, a dramatically small building, easily engulfed in the shadow of the clinic. It's windows were boarded up but the entrance was open. The three headed inside, keeping a vigilant eye in the new territory. There wasn't much inside the except empty shelves and broken glass. The back room was in a similar state, racks and trays knocked to the floor from an earlier scuffle. Behind a blue palette was a rather large vent. Where it was suppose to go was irrelevant as under the cover was a straight path into a darker area. 

Jack went first, pocket light revealing how the smooth lining of the vent gave way to chipped concrete. Not as bad as the gap, he made it without difficulty into the small office room. Tunnel asides there was only one door with a glass panel on it. The three soldiers regrouped before trying the door, finding it unlocked but not opening. Upon closer inspection, boards were in that glass window. Whoever was or is here had taken the effort to put up a barricade.

"Hello, is anyone there?" Jack called, knocking on the door. "We're here to help."

No response.

Jack tried again and received the same result.

"Should we try and bust it down?" Philips picked through the office, only finding abandoned supplies and medical papers.

"Not sure it's survivors or bots behind that door though," Neilman replied.

"If there were bots, I'm pretty sure we'd be shooting right now," Jack remarked.

To open the door was the only answer.

Neilman handed Jack his pocket light before stepping back for a running start, crashing his shoulder into the solid door. He grunted in pain that mixed with the loud thud of the wood.

"You okay?" Jack's question was met with a firm 'I'm fine' and another crash of the door.

On the third crash, the door gave way, as did the wooden board on the other side. Neilman fell through, taking unsure steps out into the open until finally finding his balance. Jack and Philips quickly followed before running into some very unique assortment of weapons: what seemed to be a broom handle with scalpels attached, a heavy rod, a fire axe, a flare gun, and an actual gun.

More importantly, there were survivors holding those weapons.

"US military," Jack announced, putting his hands up, palms open in that universal sign of peace. "We're here to help."

The man with the real pistol looked at him wearily. His mouth was twisted in a nervous half smile as he looked the soldiers up an down.

"How can we trust you?" he accused. A large bandage covered his side. "How'd you get here?"

Jack raised a brow, as the barrel pointed at him. Had they been jilted by soldiers in the past?

"We were told where to go." Jack took a step forward. "Your son-"

The man's eyes went wide, his hands shaking.

"-Evan told us. He really likes the wheeled cars you got him for his birthday. And he hopes you and Kyle are okay."

"Oh thank god," the woman at his side lowered the flare gun, but the man didn't relent.

"Where is he?" the man shuddered. The woman at his side grabbed his hand, pleading with him. With a glance, the pistol was lowered with a sigh. The parents walked up to him.

"Where's my baby?" the mother asked hastily.

"He's fine. He's back at base camp," Jack explained. "And we recommend all of us going back there. It'll be safer. We have back up arriving soon."

The remaining weapons were withdrawn as more people appeared, grateful smiles on their faces. An old man took Jack's hands, praising God and thanking him for bringing their saviors. Neilman talked with the father, Will, about other exits. Philips helped the wife, Amanda, gather some supplies along with the old woman. The small boy clung to his mother. Jack scoped out any other materials for base. There wasn't much, to his disappointment, but he did find a small roll of bandages and a small, nearly empty container of pain pills.

He looked at the weapons that were left behind. The pistol was plucked up but only had two rounds left. The flare gun could always be useful, as would the fire axe. After a moment of thought, he left the makeshift spear, seeing as his trusty combat knife was tucked in his boot. Then came the weird rod. At first he only glanced at it, guessing it was some curtain rod but when he looked closer, _he stopped_.

Jack had to bite his tongue to not call Neilman or Philips. There was no need to set in any panic. They still had to get back to base in time. Jack picked up the rod, feeling how heavy smooth the metal was. Small chips and scratches aside, he looked at the dim top, the beacon inactive. Hopefully.

Checking around, Jack slipped past the group towards the office. He noticed Philips eye him in confusion but he waved him off with. The office door behind him, he headed into he tunnel, rod in hand.

No need to make a scene after all.

Once he exited to the other side was there a loud crash, followed by a second and a third. Shattered glass littered the ground under his feet. He threw the beacon to the ground as hard as he could.

Not again. Not here. _Especially not here._

When he returned, Neilman eyed him in confusion, as did Will and Philips.

"Needed a quick smoke," Jack replied with an upturned smile. "Thought it'd be better outside than in here."

Will nodded wearily before being called by his wife, leaving the soldiers more concerned.

"Pretty loud smoke break," Philips remarked. "Couldn't find a lighter?"

"No. Maybe I'll find it later," Jack looked at the civilians. How long had they been here?

"Better be later," Neilman excused himself to contact base. The chatter resumed, the civilians buzzing with excitement at finally being lead to safety. 

Jack caught the glancing eyes of the parents and soldiers. He made no pretense that there was something wrong.

Hopefully it'll stay that way.

•••••••••••••••

Jack watched behind them as the small herd of people were lead back to base. Neilman was in front, turning to look at them occasionally, with Philips carrying the boy and trying to keep everyone calm. Totally, there were six extra people: Evan, his brother, their parents, and an elderly couple. They were tired and dirty but alive. 

Will filled them in that they'd been trapped in the building for weeks, scavenging whatever they could. The elderly couple, Martha and Patrick, let them in immediately. Patrick was weak, due to some condition, so they holed up in the clinic first. Will only fortified the place and went out searching with his wife, Amanda. Their sons were usually kept safe inside while they were out. During one trip, the parents were found by a bot. The father was shot in the side but they were lucky to escape with their lives. After that, they decided to board up the place for a while. No one saw Evan slip out at all. Amanda tried to go out and find him but more drones came by, forcing her to retreat. All they could do was wait. 

They were running low on supplies and hope until they came.

When Neilman broke through their makeshift blockade, they were expecting the end, improvised weapons in hand. 

When they saw soldiers, _they saw hope_. 

Just seeing the light in their eyes when they saw them made Jack all the more determined to see this through. 

_This is what he was here for_.

Philips sided up to Jack questionably. Jack glanced at the young boy on his back, asleep.

"Want to explain now or later?" Philips adjusted the kid so he wouldn't slip.

"Better do it later. Kite needs to know too."

With a nod, Philips rejoined the group up front and relayed the message to Neilman. Jack noticed the other man eye him with confusion and foreboding anxiousness. They had to stop every so often for Will and Patrick, the old man huffing as he walked with his wife. Those brief stops always put Jack on edge, as if something would turn the corner and ambush them right there, but nothing ever did.

The sky darkened by the time they made it back to base. Philips ushered in the civilians to some of the office rooms. Jack pulled Kite aside.

"Where are they?" it's not like he could miss an entire part of the military arriving at the building.

"No reply. Been trying for hours," she looked at the group again. "Where?"

"Two clicks from perimeter check. Held up in a clinic for a while."

"Place was picked clean," Jack quickly added before she asked. "The father is hurt, but it isn't in critical condition."

Though, it was heavily bandaged and required the shared shoulder of his wife to help him along.

"How's Tullen?" 

"He woke up a while ago. He's stable now but I don't know how much longer he can go," she replied grimly. "Castillo's kind of losing it too. Managed to make her drink something at least."

Jack nodded. God, where were they?

Philips returned, watching as Kyle and Evan played some game together.

"You okay?" Jack placed a hand on his shoulder. Philips kept watching the kids wistfully.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm okay," he finally tore away from them, stuffing a hand into his pocket. "Just-I'm okay."

Jack excused himself down the hall. The soft knock was met with silence so he let himself in. Castillo was passed out still on the leather chair, which was turned away from him. Her hand was limply laying over the arm rest, clutching something tightly in her fist. Tullen slept peacefully, one hand over his stomach. Jack closed the door as gently as he could and headed for the kitchen.

Neilman was explaining the survivors and the tunnels to Kite, who wore a grim face. Jack glanced outside as night was settling. His unease grew, hearing the hushed mutterings of the civilians down the hall. Philips got the boys to go into the office with their parents. The door gently behind him as he sat down at the table. He took out the carton of smokes from his pocket and laid them on the table. It was near empty, only a few more sticks shaking in the box.

"Take these for me," he slid them over to Jack.

He gave him a confused look as he pocketed the box.

"There're kids in the building now," was his reply, but didn't stop him from taking out his lighter to mess with.

Brought up to speed, they talked over what to do with their new headcount. Pooling together their rations didn't amount to much, even by a regular soldier's standards, but they were trained to be able to fast if necessary and pull through the cravings of their enhanced metabolisms. 

Nonetheless, they'd have to take it easy.

"Morrison," Nielman prompted, arms crossed. "Care to tell us now?"

Kite raised a brow but stayed quiet.

Jack sighed, "You remember that stick we found? The one in the gorge?"

Silence fell with Kite's fearful understanding.

"More beacons," Kite blurted out. "How far?"

"Wait what?" Philips asked.

"Remotes that stick in the ground," Jack clarified. "That's what happened to me and Kite in the gorge. That's why we went back to check it out."

All on the same page, Neilman huffed. Philips kept rubbing his lighter. Kite laid her head on her arms. Jack kept running through the findings.

It was only one, but _one could mean more_. There were those tunnels too. Caved in. Were there beacons in there that they missed? 

Briefly, his mind flashed back to the gorge. That blood-curdling screech as the Omnics advanced. Only this time, he was replaced Evan and his family. 

He wouldn't let that happen.

_Beep. Beep._

Neilman excused himself looked down at the commlink and excused himself outside. Kite left to rest up a bit more before watch started, leaving Jack and Philips alone at the table. Philips absently flicked his lighter opened and closed repeatedly, the soft clicking making a steady rhythm. Jack placed his rifle on the table and started taking it apart. 

_Click. Clack. Click. Clack_.

They all had their routines and rituals, usually developed in the program. 

_Click. Clack. Click. Clack_.

To refocus.

 _Click. Clack. Click. Clack_.

To forget.

 _Click. Clack. Click. Clack_.

To remember.

 _Click. Clack. Click. Clack_.

Jack knew Neilman still had that loosely deemed deck in his pocket (he only had ten cards.), and noticed Kite toying with some chain she wore under her uniform. Castillo and Tullen had each other, often chatting about anything at all to have a fabricated debate about nonsense. 

Each to their own. 

_Click. Clack. Click. Clack_.

Though Jack's was a two-parter.

_Tak. Tak. Tak._

Reaper sat besides him at the table, watching him take apart the rifle with precision. Jack rubbed at a scuff mark on the barrel before returning his attention to the rest of the pieces.

It felt colder and the air smelled thickly of gun smoke, like earlier. The pulse rifle was refitted together efficiently under this hands. He glanced at the wraith, feigning a glance out the window. The wraith didn't look back. He seemed more put together than earlier, but more of those red shells were gone.

_Tak. Tak. Tak._

The takking of claws fitted in off-beat to the clicks of the lighter.

_Tak. Tak. Tak._

_Click. Clack. Click. Clack_.

_Tak. Tak. Tak._

_Click. Clack. Click. Clack_.

"Can you please stop?" Jack sighed.

Philips shut his lighter one last time, glancing up at him, confused and surprised. Before he could say anything, Jack apologized, fitting his rifle completely before excusing himself. 

They all had their things. Why did he have to have two?

The wraith followed closely behind as Jack headed on the other side of the building, far from the civilians' room. The door shut behind him firmly and he laid the rifle against the wall with careful hands.

"More wraith business?" Jack quipped, sitting down and leaning against the wall. Reaper sat next to him. His mask was leaking again. Was he mad?

"Kind of," a puff of smoke left that mask. The dark cloud evaporated into the air, but he didn't sound mad. "They're coming Jackie."

" _I know_."

The army or the bots, neither surprised him.

The only problem was who would be first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your comments and kudos. It really helps motivate me to keep this going. ( '//// ' )


	4. Fruition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this took a while but we're finally getting there. This came out a bit more rushed and shorter than I would've liked but I got really caught up in how this and the last chapter should go. But I will be posting the last chapter soon. 
> 
> ( + - + )/

Show up or not, Jack was livid, and he wasn’t the only one. Kite and Philips sat by the wire trash can, the dim flame inside bathing their grim expressions. Neilman sat on the edge of the roof, clutching the comlink in his hands and probably debating whether to toss it into the deep cavern below. Jack paced with heavy steps, alternating between wringing his hands and rubbing his temples. In the distance, faint gunfire could be heard, the dull sounds the only break within the silence. 

God this was a mess. 

The soldiers had moved their meeting to the roof after the civilians had gone to sleep. The cold air kept them alert and the small fire gave some semblance of control. 

Back up wasn’t nonexistent. It was late for good reason. Not good enough for any of their tastes though. Despite the cave ins, a full legion managed to make their way through, separating the already scattered forces while enroute to their position. The hasty message held no concern for the battle but a stern, fervent warning for them. 

They never got to demo the tunnel in this district. 

They were heading this way. 

Or were here already. 

The connection timed out abruptly with a crash over the comm and a loud curse from Neilman. There was no way they could defend this position themselves. A resounding 'fuck' followed Philips reaching for the carton again and pull out his lighter. Kite grimaced but grabbed one too. Philips handed her the light. Neilman waved off as the box was offered to him and Jack did the same. They sat in silence for a moment, letting the situation sink in. 

Jack stopped before almost knocking over the full mug of ash and cigarette buds. There had to be something they could do. All the odds pointed against them but maybe, just maybe, there was something? 

He glanced at each of them and frowned.

Philips had two kids at home. They were staying with his mother-in-law until their dad came back. He loved them both but hated how his in laws spoiled his kids rotten sometimes.

Kite once admitted that she still wanted to get her degree. She was a few credits away when she decided to serve. It was just something have, in her opinion. 

Neilman just had his family and soon-to-be family downstairs. Both in bandages. He came here to watch over them, but realized that he might have come just to watch them die.

"Can we at least try to evacuate? "Jack looked down at their makeshift map. It was part of a wooden door at some point. Now it was just a small chunk with a crudely carved map on it. X's and other markers created the district, its possible entrances, and unstable buildings.

"And go where?" Philips gestured to the map. “No place we can exactly hide. HQ’s at least a two days trek back to avoid all the shit.” 

"Low supplies, low ammo, and down two men. We also got the civis downstairs," Kite ticked off, staring into the flames. 

“What about the clinic? It wasn’t in too bad of shape,” Jack suggested. 

“I don’t think we could get there with Tullen and Castillo,” Philips replied. 

Jack stared down at the crude map again, tracing the lines representing the tunnels within the shops. Some of them had caverns large enough to hide in but with the report from the comms, he wasn’t sure. Could they have removed the blockade and started using them again? 

A cold chill went down his spine. The smell of gunpowder. 

Look who decided to join the party. 

Reaper kneeled behind him, looking over his shoulder. His mask was leaking again, but by this point, it was a normal occurrence. Saying nothing, the wraith was more fixated on the map. Jack glanced down at it again, wondering what the wraith saw and he didn't.

'Shitty drawing. You did it?"

Jack rolled his eyes and went over their people again. They wouldn't be able to evacuate fast or far enough and where else would they go? Tullen had to be carried. No matter how much Castillo would front, she needed help just to stand. Will was injured, Patrick was already weak without his medication, and the whole lot of them look like they haven't eaten in days.

'This is wrong.'

A claw pointed at one of the x's on the map. He was right, unfortunately. There was a building still there. He marked that one by accident and never corrected it.

'The building here. It be big enough to block the path.'

Jack furrowed his brows, wondering what the wraith was getting at. He looked at the map, and remembered the buildings he was talking about. He stared out into the landscape, mentally plotting the points. Blue eyes went wide as he slammed his fist on the ground The others looked at him, startled and hopeful. 

A devilish smirk creased his face, "Does Tullen still have his demo packs?"

"Jack, you can't be serious," Philips gave him a concerned look. "Tullen got lucky, thank god, but his shit isn't strong enough."

"Still explosive though. How many pulse rounds do you guys have?"

"I only got a couple and Castillo managed to save some, I think." Kite chirped in, curiously.

Jack nodded and gestured to the map,"We can make that work but we gotta be fast. Neilman, you with me?"

"To hell and back, Morrison," a confident smile finally turned on his face.

"To hell and back," the three agreed.

•••••••••••••

Jack's legs burned as he ran for the building. Philips was spotting him with Kite left back at base.

"This is a ballsy idea Morrison. I hope to god it works," Neilman muttered with a smirk.

"Me too," he replied as they hauled the equipment.

They still had the demo packs for the tunnels and with the addition of Tullen's unused cocktails, it should work. The two soldiers headed north towards the tunnel. Their only focus was time. Just maybe they could barricade themselves in a further building and block off any routes with debris. If not, they could hopefully stall enough for backup can make it. They didn’t talk about anything past that. 

Jack thought back to the gorge. If this tunnel was anything like that, they could try to corral the bots like some sort of trench. He shook when that screeching came to mind. Wait. Screeching. He could use that.

 

Nearing the coordinates, they slowed, listening. Hearing nothing but the faint gunfight in the distance, Jack did a quick check in with Philips before motioning for Neilman to follow him inside one of the shops. The back door had been broken off long ago, revealing the entrance. With the pocket lights low, Jack went first, making sure Neilman followed closely behind.

A main route, the pathway allowed them to stand at full height, but like the others, only allowed a single file approach. They rushed into the opening, only briefly orienting themselves before setting down the equipment.

"We're setting the charges now,"Jack reported, clutching his rifle as Neilman unloaded the demo pack. The explosives were meant for demolition purposes, unlike the specialized hand grenades they were used to using. It couldn't deactivate bots within a radius through some kind of electricity nonsense but it can sure as hell blow up the tunnel.

Neilman set up the bomb quickly, the lights flashing to announce the activation. He nodded the Jack, clutching the detonator in one hands.

"We're heading out. How're we doing?"

The comlink crackled. Damn thing needed longer batteries.

"Better be quick. I can see'em," came the reply.

"How far?"

"Maybe a couple hours. Give or take."

"That's all we're gonna need." 

. . . . . . . . 

Neilman was pacing. Jack could hear his nervous steps going back and forth on the concrete.

The vent opened up to the office space again. The shattered glass was still here, as was the rod. Jack picked it up, taking a moment to examine his handiwork. The top glass was broken, much of it was bent, and the inner workings are exposed. Not too shabby, but he really wished he didn't do such a good job.

 

Why he came back for this was just a hunch, surely a good hunch. Maybe? 

"Hurry up Jack."

"Fine," he replied, crawling back through the vent. Hopefully they could get this working. 

 

. . . . . . . . 

The beacon was humming, the only indication of being 'fixed'. Kite almost broke the damn thing when he brought it back. Then Neilman tried to finish the job while trying to fix it. It took some very persuasive arguing to get the damn thing ‘working’ again. Jack planted it near the other tunnel. Back at the gorge, the bots had been disorganized before its activation. Maybe it attracted them or something. Whether or not it did was a gamble but if it did, great, it made the plans easier. If not, well it wasn’t like it was an EMP or something. 

Better yet, if the plan worked out, minus the last minute addition, then the bots would head towards the building. Destroying the tunnel would create one obstacle in their way while destroying one of the nearby buildings would hopefully decrease their numbers and make it more difficult. They had to evacuate further past the office for the last barrier. 

Jack shielded his eyes as he gazed up at the looming tower. Neilman walked out quickly, bag missing.

"How the fuck does he even do this?" Neilman complained, holding what Jack assumed was the detonator. A mess of wires attached to a remote was more like it.

"Just be glad it's all premade," he replied. The two started their way back to base. 

"I hope to god it works," Neilman muttered.

"Not done yet, we gotta keep moving."

. . . . . . . . 

Tullen didn't stir as Jack and Philips carried him on the makeshift gurney. Eyes only partially open, his breathing was shallow but a small smile was curved on using lips.

"Finally gonna go home," Jack remarked. "Thought about what kind of food for the wedding?"

A twitch and a strangled sound that mimicked a laugh.

In front of their convoy was Will, leaning on Amanda. Neilman was half carrying Castillo while Kite watched the horizon. 

They couldn't go far. 

They all knew this. 

But Jack managed to talk them into relocating, just past another fragile tower. 

That's all they needed. 

A small bomb composed of part of Tullen's pack, the rest of the rocket cartridges, and some rifle ammo was stowed away in Jack's bag. They'd be here soon and the last tower was all that stood between them.

"They're almost here. I'm regrouping with you guys," Kite remarked over the channel. The signal was getting fuzzier and fuzzier.

"Roger that," Jack replied.

He glanced at his fellow soldiers and the civilians. If anything, they had to make it.

 

. . . . . . . . 

With the civilian’s settled, Jack crept out, pack in hand. The last tower was a good distance away, already leaning in their favor. 

"Morrison," Neilman called to him. Jack didn't stop, forcing the man to run to his side. "Where's the detonator?"

Jack kept walking, quickening his strides.

"I got it. Just head back."

Jack broke the glass door of the building, crawling through the missing panel. Much to his annoyance, the other man followed him.

"Rob, go back. I got this," he reassured, quickly assessing the structure walls. 

"Josh only had one detonator left."

Now Jack stopped, but it was only to start unpacking the explosive. The haphazard bomb was heavy in his hands as he tied it to one of the support beams with wire

"Jack."

Checking that it was secure, he turned to him, a half smile on his face, "I got it."

He slipped a hand into the bag and pulled out the flare gun. Neilman cocked a brow at him before realization hit. In two strides, he grabbed Jack’s shoulder roughly, a snarl on his lips, “Jack! You can’t do this!”

Jack gave a lopsided smile, grip tightening on the flare gun's handle, “You got people waiting for you. I don’t. “

He ripped Neilman’s hand off his shoulder and gave a gentle cuff to his arm, “Besides, who’s gonna pick up the tab I owe Castillo?”

Neilman looked at him, disbelief and defiance in his eyes. Before he could try again, Jack pushed his shoulder. The Omnics were getting closer. They didn’t have enough time now. Not that Jack had any left in the first place. He gave a smile, the strongest one he could muster, before flippantly waving the flare gun. 

“Hey, I ran track in high school. You saw me on the obstacle courses. I can run.”

Of course, he had no intention of running.

Neilman didn’t buy it. He didn’t expect the man too. He was smart, another reason he shouldn’t be here. The soldier grit his teeth and let out a growl, “To hell and fucking back, Jack. You better fucking come back.”

Jack nodded sadly and the two shook hands, “To hell and back, Robert. To hell and back. Tell, Josh and Vanessa congratulations for me. “

“Tell them your fucking self, “ Neilman yelled.

As his back disappeared, Jack sighed and stared at the bomb again. A wicked smile crossed his lips and a bitter laugh fell as he heard the oncoming Omnics grow closer. The ground shook and the dull monotonous sound of the oncoming forces thundered in the background. He counted to thirty before feeling the ground shake as the first explosion went off. The large crash soon followed with another explosion and the loud roar as the tower fell. He waited, counting again and again to thirty. The vibrations got stronger as Jack took a quick look out of the window. Gleaming in the light were the bots, arranged in their meticulous pattern as they matched forward.

"What the hell is this?" 

“And where have you been? “ Another bitter smile curled on his face as he turned to face the mask. Black smog leaked from the face, similar to large puffs of breath in the middle of winter. 

"Jack, this wasn't part of the plan."

"I made a few changes," he sauntered back over to the bomb, his heart racing as the rumbling grew closer.

The wraith grabbed his arm, claws digging into the flesh. Pain blossomed in sporadically, with the hand unable to keep solid form before membering again. "Fucking give that to me."

Jack turned and cocked a brow before shaking his head. Reaper tried to pry the flare gun from him, his arms inconsistently making contact or going through Jack completely. At one point did the gun leave his hand but soon clattered to the ground followed by a curse. Jack snatched it up quickly, keeping a firm hold as he danced out of the ghost's reach. 

"You fucking idiot. I can touch shit, remember? Get out of here while you can."

Jack merely shook his head, "I have to do this myself."

“Besides,” Jack motioned to give him the gun, before dropping it into his other hand. The wraith formed a fist as it passed right through.

A soft thud signaled the wraith taking a stand. Jack took a step back, on guard for another 'keep away' but it didn't happen. More tattered than ever, even part of the mask was missing, leaving Jack to stare into the darkness of the hood. New holes littered the coat. All of the shells were missing along with their belts and holsters. A look down made him gasp as some of those claws were actually broken. His mind was accepting of his fate so it seemed.

"You're a fucking idiot Jack."

“I know,” with a nod, Jack turned to the explosives and gave it one last look. 

He held the flare gun with steady hands and started counting to five. 

One.

Neilman, Philips, and Kite should be able to evacuate everyone.

Two.

Even if the building falls on only a couple, it should block the way. It was already leaning.

Three.

Something wet was on his cheek. He ignored it. 

Four.

This is what he was here for. To save people even at the cost of himself. It wasn't like he had much going for him anyway.

All other thoughts receded. His focus narrowed and his mind was clear. All he could focus on was the trigger under his finger and his slow and steady breathing. It didn’t matter if his sight was becoming blurry with tears, he wouldn’t miss. He couldn’t miss. There was no way to fuck this up.

Especially now.

Five.

At the end of his count, he pulled the trigger. The flare let out a shriek as it flew. Briefly, Jack was blinded, feeling the heat of the flare and the explosion briefly before all sensations were replaced by a sharp ringing. He felt himself hit the ground, tackled more like it. Something wrapped around him, holding him tightly. As he felt himself fade, the ringing began to even out.

“Goddamit Jack-!”was the last he heard before the world fell into darkness.


	5. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Edits made, mostly grammar and format.

Jack turned over on the bed, feeling his side ache and the room being way too hot. There wasn’t the rough feel of the ground; instead it was the smooth feel of soft sheets. The only sheets he knew of were in med bay. Unease curled in him at the thought. He debated whether to try and fall asleep again, considering this a dream, or check if this was real, which implied waking in that haphazard tent. 

Jack was unfortunately, a curious sort.

Blue eyes opened groggily before going wide in annoyance. Back here again, but a little different: a room, or partially a room. 

And the room was burning. 

_Great._

Not exactly the whole white lights and pearly gates that was advertised but a lot of things didn't exactly turn out well for him.

Partial walls suggested the room around him, singed black with crumbled edges. A sole door stood, untouched by the fire, the only entrance and exit. He noted the bright flames licking the edge of the bed, but not climbing up the sheets.

Illuminated by the flame’s soft glow, he glanced around at the pitch-black landscape. Not exactly night but the familiar darkness. There wasn’t much else besides the single bed. The sheets were clean, lacking any blackened or browned fabric from the fire. He'd kicked off the quilt blanket to the edge of the bed earlier. It was thick and felt cozy. Briefly, he entertained the thought of just pulling the cover back up and that whole ‘dream’ idea, but there was no point in pretending. 

He died. There was no getting around a fucking building falling on him. Even if by some miracle his body was found and dragged from the wreckage to the medical tent, he doubted waking up would do him or anyone any good. He'd be too damaged, too much of a liability to fight, or let alone live.

Still, he checked himself over, finding nothing but a soreness in his side. It wasn’t like he expected much. Though what was this then? Was he in the middle of dying, like some fading consciousness? _It didn’t feel like it_. All that time cursing the scientists at the facility, hunched over in the bunks really should have taught him the meaning of ‘dying’, but this didn’t feel like _that_. There was no agony, no pain, just a grounding sense of calm. Probably the shock. Maybe that was just the difference between slowly dying to toxins in the body and being completely crushed by a building. 

Laying back on the bed, his mind replayed those last moments: Neilman’s angered shout as Jack convinced him to go. The feel of knowing that this was his last moment. How _sure_ he was when pulling the trigger of the flare gun. He furrowed his brows as he replayed the scene. Everything was slow in that moment, with the thundering of gunshots blanketing his mind.

_Click._

Jack bolted upright, standing. He flinched in surprise as his legs were engulfed by the flames before reminding himself that this wasn’t _real_. 

The flames held no warmth. _He was dead_.

He had to remember that.

On instinct, he checked the underside of his pillow, not at all surprised but still disappointed at not finding his side arm.

“You’re a real fuck, you know that?” Reaper huffed as he closed the door behind him.

 _Right_.

It was only fitting that he was here. The wraith had an image to maintain, the whole angel of death type deal after all. It was only right that he was the last thing he saw. 

"Nice to see you too," Jack replied dryly. He sat down and revisited that 'go back to bed' idea. (Being dead is supposed to be the ‘eternal sleep’ right?)

The wraith looked fine now, more put together. There were no blurs on his outline, but the belts were missing, as well as the shells. Sinister as ever in the low lighting. The white mask grew closer, not even acknowledging the flames surrounding them. His steps looked more solid than usual.

"You here to send me to the other side?" Jack smirked. The Reaper sighed, opting to sit next to him. The mattress dipped and Jack scooted over to face the wraith.

"I tell you not to be a martyr and look what you fucking do," the mask shook his head wearily. "Always the goddamn same. Sometimes I wonder if this is just out of spite."

"Yes, I sacrificed myself just to piss you off," Jack retorted. "And you say I'm conceited."

“You fucking are.” Reaper growled at him in annoyance. “Christ Jack, why do you want to die so bad?” 

“I’m didn’t try to kill myself for no reason.”

“Really? It sure as hell doesn’t seem like it. Do you have any self-preservation?”

"I did what I did and I don't regret it."

Reaper shook his head again, his voice sadder than confused, "Do you really Jack? You don't regret never getting to live your life?"

Jack thought for a moment. There wasn't much else left. He'd probably continue on until the war was over and then head home to do...What exactly? He never put a thought to it, too busy training and fighting.

"No. I don't," Jack finally said surely. He pulled his knees up on the bed," ’Sides, those guys had more than me."

Reaper tilted his head, sadly (if he could call it that.) A cold hand took his and their fingers interlaced.

"Jack, you deserve to live. I don't know why you don't understand that."

"I do," he squeezed the hand back, noting how solid the hand was than before. "Just not as much as they do."

The hand squeezed his back roughly, accompanied by a voice that sounded like a growl, "You're worth so much more than any of them."

The pressure began to twist into pain but just like that it was gone, replaced by a softer touch and a muttered apology. Jack raised his brow at the wraith but didn't comment on it.

"I hope they made it out," he frowned. “And I'd rather not have my afterlife full of you lecturing me. “

Reaper deadpanned, "You're not dead, Jack."

The blond furrowed his brows as a frown twisted on his face, "You're lying."

"Jesus Jackie, you want to be dead that much?"

"But the blast was too close and this," he let go to gesture to the room. "I'm fucking dreaming then."

Goddamnit. 

"Am I in a coma?" he should be _dead_. Just being so close to the blast should ensure that he's dead. Not that finding out he was alive was wrong, but _it didn't add up_. 

Reaper sighed as he stood,"Just go back to bed and you'll wake up."

"Where are you going?" a note of panic entered his voice. He didn't want to be alone.

"I'll be back. You have to wake up Jack."

" _Don't give me that shit._ "

The wraith turned to him threateningly, "Either you go the fuck to sleep or I make you."

" _Fine_ ," he turned over and heard those heavy steps toward the door. "You'll be back though, right?"

"Of course. I promise."

..........

He woke up alright.

Blue eyes blinked wearily, as the scent of gunpowder and pulse ammunition cut the air like a knife amid the shouts and screams. Thunderous gunshots roared around him. In a moment, his eyes blinked open. The distant gunfire was the first reminder. He looked around the makeshift infirmary, low lit by odds and ends scavenged from the wreckage. One of his arms was bandaged and in a sling. It stung when he moved it, but bad enough to stop him. With every breath, he felt his ribs buckle under the strain, a couple were broken, but not too many. His body felt heavy and the old cot creaked in annoyance as he sat up. His side burned, his head felt full of lead, and a ringing started in his ears, but he was alive.

The med tent was disorganized, more than usual. Medical equipment was strewn about in a haphazard manner, and the other two beds were empty. Adrenaline gripped him as he pushed his body to stand. Shaky legs took a moment to balance themselves as he held onto the IV pole. With deep breaths, he pulled out the needle, ignoring the dull pain. He felt nauseous and dizzy but leaned against the pole as he got his bearings.

Another yell and scream sounded outside, churning within the roar of gunfire. Blue eyes scanned the blurry the tent quickly before focusing. After a couple deep breath and shuffled steps, he sorted through kits and shelves full of odds and ends and found what he was looking for. They always kept a side arm in the tent, as a precaution. Armed, Jack took a deep breath, taking a few steps, surprised to not find any burning in his legs, before daring to leave the tent.

Everything went into a blur, a fuzzy adrenaline fueled blur that smelled of burning metal and gun smoke. He felt pain only briefly, always ignoring the feeling and focusing on his sweaty palms and the trigger under his finger. His lungs burned with exertion and at some point, he thought his heart would burst right out of his chest, but it didn't. He had too much to do. Too many people to help. Blue eyes were alight with fire as the he joined the soldiers in their fight, their last stand.

••••••••••••••••••••

Jack looked out the window of the clinic. He didn't want to join the other soldiers' celebration. The silent TV, his only companion, only played reports of the recent victory over the bots. 

The ambush was a success. The Omnium had gone up in flames and though people celebrated all down the medical wing, they all knew the cost of the victory. Like many, Jack figured that the numbers didn't add up. To outsiders, the people in safe bunkers making up the tactics or civilians watching for hope, the loss ratio didn't matter or was marginalised. The fact that so many friends and family were lost wasn't reported. All that left the reports was the destruction of the Omnium and rescue that occured right after. The world wanted to be positive, focusing on the wins, and forgoing to losses. But the soldiers knew the truth. Even now, the parties had a muted tone, a melancholy feel. It didn't feel like a win and the celebrations were mostly parties for mourning and to forget about just how quickly they'd be shipped out again once their injuries healed.

Jack sat alone in his bed, hooked up to an IV. They'd called him lucky and a crazy bastard when he took up arms from that tent. Still bandaged and running off adrenaline, the moment he left with a simple side arm changed him. He was a soldier trained to protect and fight, and that's what he had done. There was no time for questions, the assault had to be then and there. Even now, he could still feel the sheer rush, life or death, here and now.

There was a knock at the door, probably one of the nurses. He'd sent away several party invitations with the excuse of a headache. He called for them to come in, staring listlessly at the muted TV.

" _Holy shit_."

Blue eyes went wide as he swiveled to look at the visitor. 

" _David_ ," Philips stood with an idiotic grin. Half his head was bandaged, covering his hair and his left arm was in a sling.

"Goddamn, look who came back from hell."

For the first time since he was dragged to this damn hospital, Jack smiled genuinely, "The same could be said for you."

"Shit, Morrison. What happened?"

"Didn't have you to watch my 6. And you?"

He shrugged,"Fucked up some bots as usual. They got lucky."

Philips dragged a chair over and sat by his bedside. They chatted and Jack watched the light drain from his eyes. Like the others he found in the wing, he was smiling but the warmth didn't reach his eyes. They were too cold, full of mourning.

"Didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Said I'd come back, didn't I?" he shrugged.

They chatted about the wing, about the parties, and the ambush. It all seemed to casual, like the whole thing was finally done with, but no one held those thoughts. The war was still going on. These small moments were what they fought for.

Philips laughed, holding his side, in a restrained way as more concern filled his expression than mirth. A small pause held between them, both knowing the upcoming questions. Jack could see the preparedness in Philips' squared shoulders. He wasn't going to like his answers.

"So, are you going to make me ask?" Jack prompted, leaning back against the pillows.

"Gonna hurt to answer either way," Philips sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the lighter.

"They won't let you smoke in here."

"I know, and it's a bitch. Thing needs a refill anyway."

Instead of clicking it, he merely held it in his hand, smoothing over the scratched metal. Jack waited patiently, listening to the muffled chatter throughout the ward. This was the loudest it's been since he got here. The talk actually sounded like some semblance of cheerful compared to its usual droning beeps of machines and hurried footsteps, following the screech of gurneys and medical questions.

"The civilians made it."

"All of them?"

Philips shook his head. Jack wasn't surprised but he bit his lip.

"The old man didn't make it. Too long without his medicine. We managed to get the father treated in time though."

"Bet they called you a hero."

" _Us_. They called _us_ heroes."

Jack gave a half smile that lasted only a second. "And what happened after?"

Philips sighed again, not looking at him in the eye, "We ran. _Ran like hell_. Back up just barely got there. We loaded up and l-..."

He quickly closed his mouth.

"It's fine. I made my choice."

"I-we wanted to go back, but Rob said it was no use. We knew he was right but that didn't make us not want to try something."

"Like I said, I understand."

He frowned as Philips gripped the lighter tightly, "Rob and Amy had to stay back though...to hold them off. Buy us some time."

Jack cursed at the image. So Neilman and Kite didn't make it, "You can stop, it's fine-."

" _No, Jack, let me finish_."

Jack stared wide eyed at the man, as his voice cracked. He slowly nodded, trying to fight the indignation burning inside him. Philips took his time, cradling the lighter, never daring to look up.

"Me and Vanessa tried to get to transport. And Josh was sent to medical. We got back and everything seemed fine, but...Josh was too late. We barely got Vanessa in time."

"David, I'm sorry-"

" _You don't get to say that Jack_. Fucking, good guy Jack, dying so we could get the hell out. God, if Amy was here, she'd fuck you up for pulling this hero shit again."

Jack watched the man heave from the outburst.

"It's just you, me and Vanessa. But they're not sure if she's gonna make it. He said, he'd come back..."

The two sat in silence. When Philips composed himself, he asked to do a prayer (or something, come on Jack) which turned into stories of SEP painted into an off hand eulogy between them. When that was finished, Philips said his goodbyes and wrote down which room. Castillo was in.

Alone, Jack stared blankly at the report. It finally switched over to the weather, but didn't miss out on giving an optimistic message about the ongoing war. Indignation burned in him.

••••••••••••••••••••

Unlike Philips, Jack was walking around in a couple days. Enhancements made the healing easy but ate through the medications. Many of the staff were surprised at his high pain tolerance and miraculous healing. He guessed this hospital to be some one off and kept quiet about the reasons for why he was up and about months sooner than he should. The wing had emptied out in that time. Unlike a couple nights ago, the halls were practically empty as the super soldiers were sent out immediately. Now better versed in the fight, the remaining SEP graduates were scattered to share their knowledge with other armies globally.

Jack was late when arriving so he was late in leaving. The staff demanded that he stay at least a couple more days for observation, mostly because they discovered that one of his ribs was crooked. (One problem with increased healing is that sometimes it went wrong and had to be manually corrected. Nothing like going under with enough anesthetic to down at least an elephant or two. That had been a fun night.)

Still, he felt his body return to normal and became more restless the longer he stayed. The news reports were turned off and on periodically, as he went back in forth in valuing knowing a vague sense of what was going on or become annoyed by the overly diluted numbers given by the news. After the second day, the TV stayed on 24/7.

New hits in Europe, the Middle East, and as far as southeast Asia. The war was a global problem with each country racing to figure out a way to win. Unified fronts worked in unison to save their people.

He should be there now, fighting. Not trapped in a hospital with aged magazines and the stale stench of pressed linens.

Jack visited Philips every so often. He was pulled away on head injured, the doctors concerned for brain damage. Philips didn't acknowledge their reunion too much. He carried on as casually as before but Jack caught him slipping up from time to time, mentioning Neilman or Tullen. He never commented on it and the realization on the man's face fazed into bitterness before turning into a forced casual smile. He was always closer to Neilman.

"They went back just like you decided to stay, Jack," Philips had said, finally meeting his eyes. "It's not your fucking fault."

Jack didn't respond, opting to change the subject to more speculation of what the bots were planning, but they were both adamant on one topic.

"How did you get out?" 

"I'm not sure."

Philips have a casual smile, "Probably just the lucky son of a bitch you are huh?"

"I just woke up in the med tent."

The other man cocked a brow, "Jack, we saw the building fall. Not to be ungrateful or anything that you're here but just _how_?"

"Like I said, I don't know. I remember hearing the explosions and then I woke up in the med tent."

Moreover with minor injuries compared to death. That little hole in his memory plague them both briefly before they changed topics. He still wondered how he managed to escape seemingly without a scrape from the blast, but probably not a good idea to complain about your blessings.

When he finally tracked down Castillo's room, he was barred from entry. Her prone form lay in bed, hooked up to multiple machines. He tried to ask what was wrong but none had the heart to tell him. For a while, he'd linger outside the room until the staff convinced him to leave. The guilt burned within him.

As his days drew to a close, Jack found himself more secluded in his room. He didn't like going about the wing with staff thanking him to fighting the good fight or curiously examining his charts. He paced his room constantly, his thoughts buzzing to loudly to rest. Thoughts like ' _he should've done more_ ' or ' _there had to be another way_ ', endlessly circled his mind, as he replayed that last escape. All were compounded by the underlying idea that _this was his fault_. In some shape of form, he should've prevented all for his. Sure it wasn't rational but that didn't stop the burning shame and guilt ripping through him.

It was on the last day did he noticed something off. His goodbyes were monotone as he left to transport to God knows where. He hadn't seen the wraith at all, not in the hospital, not in the transport, or even when he arrived at a new base. Being left alone wasn't something he was _used_ to. Sure, the wraith would disappear from time to time but never this long. (Reaper couldn't stand going this long without complaining or annoying him after all.) The idea of being alone was an odd one. At times he even thought he heard the growl of his voice but turned to find no one. Sometimes a line shadow would make him complain absently, expecting a response. It didn't take long for the pang loneliness to hit him, but it wasn't as quiet as he thought.

The buzzing in his thoughts grew louder, only briefly silenced when in combat. When the mission was over, they'd return, along with some miscellaneous memories.

••••••••••••••••••••

"You're late," Jack muttered as he felt the room grow cold. He lay on his side, facing the wall. 

"Said I'd be back," he didn't hear footsteps but felt the wraith grow closer. "Did you miss me?"

"They died. I thought they could make it out but they didn't," Jack cursed himself silently. That was all he thought about since the wraith was gone. Apart from his missions, in the dead of night, those guilty thoughts filled his head. He grabbed the edge of the cot roughly in his hands, threatening to break the frame.

"Jack, look at me."

The blond bit his lip as he sat up to face the mask. He looked the same, as if he hadn't been gone for at least a month. (Why would he change?) He felt himself relived actually seeing that familiar mask again. The place was new, as were the people. Apart from combat, everything was too _different_ , too loud.

"You literally gave your life for them, and you _still_ think that wasn't enough?" Notes of anger entered his tone.

Jack didn't respond.

Reaper kneeled in front of him with a sigh, cupping his face tenderly, " _It's not your fault_."

Philips had said that to him, but Jack didn't believe him. It was hard to take those words in after seeing his fellow soldier tied up in bandages and hooked to an IV. Coming face to face with the reality of Philips and Castillo being patched up while he walked just fine didn't sit well with him. That only compounded on top of Neilman, Tullen, and Kite. All of it stewed in a storm of guilt.

_Yes, this was his fault._

_Yes, he did fail._

_Yes, he let them die._

" _No_ , it's never enough, is it?" A cold finger wiped something wet from his cheek."You try too hard to save everyone at the cost of yourself. You have to accept that sometimes it doesn't work out. _People die Jack_. Especially the ones we care about."

The cold hands left him but he grabbed onto one wrist. Just like always, the wraith could read him so easily. He sat down on the cot with him, easing the silence and quieting the buzzing thoughts in his mind. Jack leaned on his shoulder, feeling cold fingers comb gently though his hair.

He needed _this_. 

He needed _Reaper _.__

____

And no matter what that said about him, he couldn't deny it.

____

The next morning saw Jack as a changed man, more confident in his strides and open. He looked more in control, fighting with the pristine effectiveness that he became known for. For all of the fights he was apart of and all of the people he met, none saw the dark shadow that loomed over him, watching over him.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, and there we go. As a first installment, I really learned a lot ( I need better planning holy crap). I tried to leave the ending a bit opened for the next installment (hopefully better than this one.)
> 
> Other than that, thanks so much for taking an interest in this! The comments and kudos are really sweet! Hopefully I can keep up the same or better quality with this AU. And I have a lot planned out.
> 
> Had their names picked out but never really used:  
> -Robert Neilman  
> -David Philips  
> -Amy Kite  
> -Josh Tullen  
> -Vanessa Castillo
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> ( ' v ' )/


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